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MAKING GOOD IN THE 
VILLAGE 




MAKING GOOD W 
THE VILLAGE 




w/o.- STODDARD, Jr. 


AUTHOR OP “THE FARM THAT JACK BUILT** 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

GEORGE VARIAN 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

NEW YORK LONDON 


1916 


Copyright, 1916, by 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 




APR -4 1916 


of America 


©GI.A427513 

- I 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I Hunting a Job 1 

II The New York Game 7 

III The Messenger 15 

lY A Six 0 'Clock Start 23 

V Tricks 29 

VI A New Friend 36 

VII Night in the City 44 

VIII Tom Makes a Mistake 51 

IX Tom Goes Back 58 

X Doorkeeper 65 

XI Working Out an Idea 73 

XII What Did You See? 79 

XIII A New Country 85 

XIV The Newcomers 91 

XV On Trial 98 

XVI Opportunity 104 

XVII The Junk Shop 113 

XVIII Getting Started 120 

XIX Eemoving an Old Sign 128 

XX System 135 

XXI Opening Day . 141 

XXII The First Sale 149 

XXIII Complications 158 

XXIV Everything New 166 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXV Mystery 175 

XXVI Saturday Trade 183 

XXVII An Offer 190 

XXVIII Eumor 198 

XXTX The Contest 205 

XXX A Way Out 214 

XXXI The New Line 221 

XXXII Off to the Hills 228 

XXXIII The Hills 234 

XXXIV Fast Water 244 

XXXV An Answer 251 

XXXVI Cheap 258 

XXXVII A Weird Night 264 

XXXVIII The Decision 272 

XXXIX Just as Good 280 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ ‘ Then take the consequences’ ”... Frontispiece 

FACING 

VAGE 

“ ‘ Will you please hand me the duplicate keys 

to our time clock? ’ ” 32 

“ He noted a farm wagon which stopped several 

doors west of his own shop ” 146 

“ Snap! In a moment they were broadside on ” 260 


n 


i 

c 


I 


MAKING GOOD IN 
THE VILLAGE 

CHAPTER I 

HUNTING A JOB 

^^HERE must be a job for me somewhere.** The 
speaker was a young man of about seven- 
teen, and he stood on the curb of Fifth Avenue at 
Twenty-third Street, gazing up at the broad side of 
the Flat Iron Building. He wore a gray suit, rather 
shiny at the elbows and just a trifle short in the 
sleeves and trouser legs. No doubt he had grown 
so rapidly the wear of the cloth had won in the race 
against his increasing size, and his ankles and wrists 
now protruded from a suit that had not worn out 
soon enough to make larger garments absolutely 
necessary. He was a wiry looking specimen of 
American boyhood, though he had not broadened 
out as he would surely do in a few more years. 


I 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


There was a look of wistfulness in his dark eyes as 
he repeated to himself, “There must be a job for me 
somewhere, and I’m going to get it if I have to call 
on every business concern in this city.” 

“What’s dat yo’ say, boss?” 

Tom Stewart turned sharply to the questioner. 
He was unconscious of having expressed himself 
aloud. “Why, er, I was talking to myself. Who 
are you, anyway?” 

“I’se a nigger, I reckon,” placidly responded his 
questioner, and as Tom looked him over, he was 
impressed by the colored man’s dignity of presence, 
his height and erect carriage. “I’se a regular, un- 
educated, self-respectin’ nigger; I’se got a job, an’ I 
beam what yo’ say an’ I thought I mout hep yo’ git 
work. Das what mek me say what I says. My 
name is Napoleon W. Ricketts.” 

“That’s kind of you,” Tom responded, “but I’ve 
been looking for work steady for a month. I started 
down at the Battery with a list of over two hundred 
names of concerns I wanted to work with, and I’ve 
only got four names left and no job.” 

“How yo’ expect to work fo’ two hundred busi- 
nesses?” asked Napoleon. 

“I only want one,” said Tom with a laugh, “but 
2 


HUNTING A JOB 


I started with a list of two hundred to make sure 
of that one, only I didn’t get that one, and I’ve just 
four names left.” 

“Fo’ jobs is three too many,” and the negro’s 
broad smile disclosed two gleaming rows of very 
good teeth. “I specks I kin hep yo’ jest as hard,” 
he continued. “I got a boss what want folks as ain’t 
afraid o’ work, an’ he most generally gives ebry- 
body what asks a chanct. Got any recommenda- 
tions?” 

“No, just out of high school,” replied Tom. 

“Yo’ can’t git no job wif no references, a dawg 
can’t git sold or nothin’ wifout a pedigree, dat’s 
dawg references. Ain’t yo’ been nowhere?” 

“Nope, only been to every place on the list from 
the Battery to Harlem and got a lot of requests to 
call again, and a lot more just said, ‘Nothing 
doing.’ ” 

“Dat’s all yo’ gits wifout references. I know a 
white pusson what writes references fo’ ebrybody, he 
wrote my recommendation. It cost me two bits ; yo’ 
got a quarter wif yo’ ?” 

“Yep, I got a quarter, but I need that for lunch.” 

“Dat’s too much to spend fo’ lunch. I’ll show 
yo’ where yo’ kin git a course dinner fo’ fifteen cents, 
.3 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


den yo’ gib me ten cents fo’ a introduction to de boss 
an’ if yo’ lands a job, yo’ gib me de odder fifteen 
cents at de end o’ de week same like I writ yo’ a 
recommendation.” 

“That’s a bargain,” said Tom with a laugh. 
“Where do you work and when shall I come round 
and get my introduction ?” 

“Yo’ bettah be down to de stoah in de raornin’ 
’bout six I reckon. I’se janitor, an’ yo’ can hep me 
till de boss comes round. Dat’s what.’* 

“Where is the place?” 

“Fort & Saxe Hardware Company, Fourth Av- 
enue near Thirteenth Street. Yo’ can’t miss it.” 

“Here’s ten cents for that introduction.” 

“Yo’ ain’t no business man.” 

“Why?” 

“Cose yo’ pay me befo’ I gib yo’ sumpin. Dat 
mighty poor tradin’ when yo’ pay fo’ sumpin what 
yo’ doan git.” 

“I’ll trust you ten cents’ worth,” replied Tom. 

“Yo’ ain’t got no call to trust nobody dese days, 
white or black, what yo’ don’t know. Come ’long wid 
me till I shows yo’ dat fifteen-cent course dinner. 
Dat’s wort sumpin, but doan yo’ trust nobody dese 
days. I se honest, but de next man — ^yo’ watch out I” 
4 


HUNTING A JOB 


A short walk south and then another east and 
Toni’s guide stopped in front of a basement store. 
The house had once been the brown-stone dwelling 
of some wealthy New Yorker, but like so many 
others of its kind, it had surrendered to the swift 
uptown march of business. Two steps down brought 
one to the level of the restaurant floor, for what had 
once been a private dining-room for the aristocrat 
was now the very cheapest sort of lunch-room to be 
found in this neighborhood. 

To one side, and over this depressed portion of 
pavement, sprang a brown-stone “stoop” or flight 
of steps. These with thin old ornamental iron rail- 
ings and newel posts told of the old days of stately, 
if rather rigid style, a sort of old New York dignity 
not replaced by the great and over expensive man- 
sions on Riverside Drive. 

Tom’s eyes saw it all, for though a citizen by birth, 
he was interested in the great changes going on 
around him in a city which occasionally sloughed off 
its old skin a good deal like a snake only to put on 
a new one and always a size larger. “Old brown- 
stone mansion one day, then a store and then they’ll 
tear it down and put up a skyscraper. When they 


5 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 

get old, wonder if they’ll tear them down and put 
up something bigger?” 

“Doan know, boss, but I specks me an’ yo’ll be 
gone to glory when dey starts in tearin’ down some o’ 
dese here big ones.” 

“Pretty busy in your restaurant here but I’ll try 
it. I’ll try anything once.” 

“Yo’ sure goin’ git yo’ money back.” 

“You coming in?” 

“No, I ain’t got no fifteen cents to trow away. Yo’ 
be at de stoah by six tomorrow mornin’.” 

“You bet I I want that job.” 

“’Member I set stoah by yo’ cornin’. I want dat 
fifteen cents commission.” 

“You’ll get it,” replied Tom with a laugh as he 
turned into the restaurant. “Wonder if there’s any- 
thing in it,” he thought as the broad back of his new 
friend disappeared in the street throng. 


CHAPTER II 


THE NEW YORK GAME 

J N a quiet street west of Seventh Avenue and below 
Twenty-third Street, on the third floor of a red 
brick house lived Tom’s family. There were his 
mother, Mrs. Stewart, and his sister Mary, just fif- 
teen, and the ever-present and constantly moving 
younger brother Guy, just about twelve. There was 
no father and that was no doubt the reason the furni- 
ture was scant and rather too well worn. It also 
accounted for several other things. It no doubt 
accounted for the anxious look on Mrs. Stewart’s 
face ; it may have developed Mary’s gentle care and 
solicitude for her mother; it, no doubt, accounted for 
the fact that Tom, though a boy in years, was begin- 
ning to shoulder a man’s burdens; it was also the 
reason he left the house at five-thirty in the morning 
to answer every advertisement that seemed to offer 
the hope of employment. 

The evening of the day of Tom’s notable meeting 

7 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


with Napoleon W. Ricketts found the little group 
patiently awaiting the return of “their man.” 

“He’ll be here in a few minutes, Mother,” came 
Mary’s cheerful prophecy. 

“Yep, he’ll come all right, and I bet he gets a 
job, too. He’s the stuff! I told that Jarvis bully 
if he tried to put anything over on me Tom would 
settle his hash. I won’t stand for — ” 

“Here, here, Guy;” protested Mrs. Stewart, 
“what did I say about slang?” 

“Said it meant I couldn’t talk straight — no, you 
said it was because I didn’t know enough real words.” 

“Yes, that’s about right. If you had words enough 
to express your thoughts, you wouldn’t have to use 
slang. Now, what’s the penalty?” 

“To say it over again straight,” replied Guy, 
making what he called a “snoot.” 

“Well, then, say it.” 

“I forget what I was talking about.” 

“I’ll help,” said Mary. “You said, ‘he’ll come 
home all right, I bet — ’ ” 

“There he is now!” shouted Guy, as he ran to the I 
head of the stairs. “Hello, Tom, that you?” 

“Yes, Bub, been a good scout today?” 

“Yep, ask Mother. Got ninety in spelling — ” I i 

8 ' 


THE NEW YORK GAME 


“Tell me about it after dinner. Hello, Sis I There 
Mother, sit down. I’ll wash and be ready in a 
minute.” 

“Got a job?” piped Guy. 

“Well, I don’t know; just you wait till we sit down 
to dinner and I’ll tell you all about it.” 

A few minutes later, at the dinner-table, Tom told 
of his encounter with the cheerful Napoleon. “He 
left me at his fifteen-cent restaurant, and it was cer- 
tainly great.” 

“What did they give you to eat?” asked the always 
hungry Guy. 

“Bean soup, corned beef and beans or cabbage, 
sinkers and coffee and pie !” 

“Great I What are sinkers?” asked Guy, hopeful 
of some startling revelation. 

“Something that won’t float,” teased Tom. 

“Don’t help him to the use of slang,” urged Mrs. 
Stewart. “We were just correcting his English when 
you came in.” 

“You saved my bacon. I had to translate slang 
into words they could understand, but you came 
along in time to mix ’em up so they forgot what they 
were scolding me for.” 

“I see I’ll have to quit.” 


2 


9 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“You better, it means you’re short on words when * 
you have to use slang,” quoted Guy. “Tell us more > 
about the restaurant. Did they give you anything ( 
else?” i 

“Wasn’t that enough for fifteen cents? Worst- 
thing about the place was the crowd. The man who 
sat on the stool next to me said he was so jammed in 
he couldn’t tell what he was eating. Said he thought • 
fie was eating mutton stew but found out it was ; 
prunes. Said he was so crowded he was eating from ; 
his neighbor’s fork, while what he thought he was ; 
putting into his own mouth, he was feeding to the ' 
fellow on his left.” 

“Ah — h!” drawled Guy derisively but apprecia- 
tively. 

Mrs. Stewart was a splendid mother and a good 
manager, so now she turned the conversation as was 
her wont to something useful as well as interesting. - 
“Shall we play the New York game tonight?” she j 
asked. > 

“Fine I I’ll get the map ready while you’re clear-l 
ing off the things,” shouted Guy. 'f 

“Let me help. I’ll wipe the dishes,” said Tom. j 
“No, you must be tired out,” replied Mrs. Stewart, f 


10 


THE NEW YORK GAME 


“Not I, Fm fresh as a daisy. I can eat work. Wish 
I had a job.” 

“Call on your friend, Napoleon, he’ll help you,” 
said Mary with a smile. 

“Fm going to call, you can be sure. I won’t miss 
anything that looks like a chance.” 

As soon as the dishes had been removed, Guy 
spread out on the dining-room table a large 
map of New York City showing all subwa} , 
surface and elevated lines as well as ferry and 
bridge connections east and west. When all had 
gathered around the table, Mrs. Stewart assumed 
charge. “Guy, you may ask the first question.” 
Guy’s eyes ran rapidly and excitedly over the 
map. 

“Shortest way from Twenty-third Street and Third 
Avenue to Brooklyn Bridge ?” he shouted. 

“Elevated, of course,” said Mary. 

“No, walk over to Fourth Avenue, take subway 
to Fourteenth Street, change to express, no stop to 
the Bridge.” 

“Fd rather take the elevated,” insisted Mary, 
“you wouldn’t have to do so much walking.” 

“But you’d have to climb a long flight of stairs and 
my route would save at least ten minutes.” 


II 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


*‘Guy wins on shortest time, which was the ques- 
tion. Now, Mary, your turn, think up a hard one.” 

“Well, here’s one from actual experience. Hun- 
dred and Twenty-fifth Street, West Side, to Long 
Island Railway Station, Brooklyn.” 

“I don’t know much about those uptown connec- 
tions,” said Tom. “Guess Ninth Avenue Elevated 
to Chambers Street Station and walk across town to 
Brooklyn Bridge Terminal and take a surface car.’' 

“Not at all,” said Mary. “Take the subway, 
which is an elevated at One Hundred and Twenty- 
fifth Street, get on a Brooklyn Express and ride to 
the end of the line, Atlantic Avenue Station, and 
there you are, without a change.” 

“You win I” said Tom, “but that was your own 
question. Now try this — Forty-second Street Sta- 
tion to Lackawanna Railway in Hoboken, shortest 
and cheapest way?” 

“I tried that once,” said Mary. 

“Forty-second Street car west. Sixth Avenue 
Elevated to Twenty-third Street, then Twenty-third 
Street crosstown to ferry,” said Guy, slowly pick- 
ing out the route on the map. 

“That’d never do,” said Tom. “Fifteen cents 
and only at the ferry.” 


12 


THE NEW YORK GAME 


“My way would be, Madison Avenue car to 
Twenty-third Street, transfer to crosstown line 
west on Twenty-third Street, to subway to Hoboken, 
cost twelve cents,” said Mary. 

“I can still save you money and do it in about the 
same time,” said Tom. “Take subway express to 
Fulton Street, walk one block to Terminal Build- 
ing, then subway to Hoboken, cost ten cents.” 

“You win on cost,” said Mrs. Stewart, “but Fm 
not sure you save anything in time over Mary’s 
route.” 

“It’s a good game,” said Tom, “it has helped me 
to find my way about town in great shape. I can 
direct people just like a policeman.” 

“That’s why I’m playing the game,” said Guy. 
“I’m going to be a policeman.” 

“I thought it was a fireman,” laughed Mary. 

“Ah — !” drawled Guy. 

“It’s the beginning of many a man’s business life, 
being able to find his way around this big city. 
Your father told me about this New York game and 
I think he was wise about that as about other things. 
It’s his insurance that supports us, now that he is 
gone. Oh, how I wish you children could have had 
that man with you till you were grown up I” 

13 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Pm going to be just like him,” said Guy stoutly. 
Mrs. Stewart threw her arms about him rather sud- 
denly, but the boy understood what was meant far 
better than some older people and he knew he had 
said the right thing. 

The New York game was a great favorite, but 
after playing it a while longer the streets and ave- 
nues of a big city became dull, uninteresting black 
lines and all routes led to slumber station where 
each took the all-night express. 


CHAPTER III 


THE MESSENGER 


OM arose early next morning, but Mary had 



been ahead of him and there was a good hot 
breakfast waiting. “You’re a good backer for a 
fellow,” he remarked as he started for the door. 

“This is my part of the plan. I’m your partner 
in keeping our family together. I do hope you find 
work today, mother is so anxious, the insurance 
money helps, but it is not enough.” 

“I know. I’ve just got to get work. Don’t worry. 
I’ll get it somehow.” Tom spoke with conviction, 
but by the time he reached the hardware store of 
Fort & Saxe he began to realize how small a claim 
to consideration he had. “Nothing but the word 
of an easy-going negro who wants to make a quar- 
ter — ^bahl I’m foolish even to follow it up.” Just 
the same he entered the door and looked about for 
Napoleon. 

It was a well-ordered place with gleaming rows 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


of hardware cabinets lining the walls, spotless cases 
of cutlery, electrical fixtures, bright novelties, locks, 
and tools of all sorts, but the variety of display was 
so great that Tom grasped but few details. The 
general impression given, however, was that of spot- 
lessness and order. Way to the rear of the store 
he could see the back of someone at work with a 
broom. “It’s Napoleon,” he said to himself and he 
saluted that important person with a hearty “Good- 
morning.” 

“Derel ’Clare to goodness, I knowed I done 
forgot sumpin’ an’ it was yo’. Yo’ certainly must o’ 
got up befo’ breakfast dis mornin’, it ain’t scussly 
six now. Here, take dis year broom. Mistah 
Finch gits here at seven-thu’ty an’ he better find yo’ 
hard at work. Dere, yo’ tell him yo’ want to keep 
on workin’.” 

“I’ll do it,” said Tom. 

“Now I’ll tend to my other affairs,” said Napo- 
leon, “but yo’ keep on sweepin’ clear out to de front 
ob dis stoah.” 

What the other affairs” were Tom had no way 
of knowing, but Napoleon disappeared and Tom 
was hard at work reaching under a low showcase 
with his broom when someone touched him on 

i6 


THE MESSENGER 


the shoulder and brought him to a standing posi- 
tion. 

“Who are you?” came the short, hard inquiry. 

“Fm Tom Stewart,” gasped the newcomer. 

“What you doing here ? Who put you to work?” 

“Mr. Ricketts.” 

“What! The lazy nigger! This is his job, 
there’s nothing for you to do here.” 

“Oh, can’t you give me something to do?” pleaded 
Tom. “Fll work for ’most nothing till I learn 
enough to be worth something.” 

“Sorry, but we got too much help now.” Turn- 
ing from Tom as though that matter were settled, 
he called, “Napoleon!” and when that dignified 
person appeared very promptly he asked sharply, 
“Where are the boys? If they can’t get here on 
time there’ll be a general house-cleaning.” 

“Conroy sent word last night he was sick,” 
mumbled Napoleon, “an’ de odders ’ll be here 
directly, sah.” 

“I want somebody to deliver a package in Brook- 
lyn this morning. Should have gone last night and 
there isn’t a man on hand.” 

“Yo’ is early, Mistah Finch; it’s scussly seben; 
dey’ll all be heah directly.” 

17 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Yes, or ten minutes or fifteen minutes late, and 
I want somebody now. You better put on your 
hat. Nap, and for heaven’s sake be quick. I’ve had 
trouble enough with this customer and don’t want 
any more. I promised these goods for last night on 
a hurry-up order and of course they had to be side- 
tracked.” 

“Cose I’ll go, Mistah Finch, but I suttenly always 
does git lost in Brooklyn.” 

Tom had reluctantly put down his broom, but 
had lingered near unwilling to take no for an answer. 
He now approached Mr. Finch. “Give me the 
package,” he said, “and I’ll deliver it in jig time.” 

Mr. Finch turned and looked at him hard as 
though seeing him for the first time. “Here, take 
that bundle and report back to me as soon as pos- 
sible. Here’s twenty cents carfare and there’ll be 
a quarter in it for you.” 

Tom picked up the bundle and started for the 
door. Once outside he read the address. “Why 
it’s right near Atlantic Avenue Station!” he ex- 
claimed. “That was one of the questions in our 
New York game last night. I’ll make a record this 
time. He gave me twenty cents carfare. It’ll only 
take ten.” 


i8 


THE MESSENGER 


The bundle was heavy, as hardware bundles are 
apt to be, but Tom put it on his shoulder and ran a 
block north to the Fourteenth Street entrance to the 
subway. 

He left behind him a much-surprised man in 
the person of Mr. Finch. That person looked at 
the spot where the bundle had lain, then at the 
door through which Tom had disappeared and 
then he followed his messenger through the door 
to see the last of him turning the corner on a 
run. 

“Now, what do you think o’ that?” he muttered 
to himself. “He never said, ‘Where is it?’ ‘How 
do you get there ?’ ‘Is there any answer ?’ And he 
actually ran! Maybe he’ll steal the bundle? I don’t 
know anything about him. Here, Napoleon! Who 
was that boy you brought in this morning?” 

“I doan know, sah, he sho looked ’spectable.” 

“Well, if he doesn’t deliver that bundle. I’ll hold 
you responsible.” 

“Law, I hope to goodness he comes back, ten 
cents ain’t goin’ to cover no such loss as dat!” 

“What do you mean by that?” asked Mr. Finch 
sharply. 

“I’se, I’se tryin’ to get de poor boy a job, das all.” 

19 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 

“So you’re charging him ten cents for helping 
him.” 

“Dat ain’t all, Mr. Finch.” 

“Please explain.” 

Mr. Napoleon W. Ricketts was having a hard 
time of it and the more he tried to explain, the more 
involved he became. Meanwhile Tom had caught 
an express and had already crossed under the river 
and was nearing the Atlantic Avenue Terminal. 
Once out, he rushed to a policeman who stood guard 
at the street crossing and asked his direction. 

“Wan block over an’ two to yer right,” explained 
that authority with a wave of the hand, and then, 
when Tom had run half a block, he elevated his 
chin for long range work and bellowed, “What’s 
yer hurry?” Then lowering his mouthpiece for 
close range practice he added, “The bye’s crazy or 
a new hand, or maybe he stole it. It ain’t natural 
fer a messenger boy to run.” 

Just about this time Mr. Finch had also come to 
the conclusion that there was something queer with 
a messenger who asked no questions but simply took 
the bundle and ran. “I’ll call Holt & Dart and 
see if he has arrived.” Taking down the receiver 
Mr. Finch got his number promptly, “Holt & 
20 


THE MESSENGER 


Dart?’’ “Has our messenger arrived with that 
lot of brass fixtures?” “Been and gone?” “Yep, 
we try to keep our promises. Good-by.” Mr. 
Finch put down the receiver. “Beats all,” he said 
meditatively, and a few minutes later Tom arrived, 
handed In the receipt signed by Holt & Dart to- 
gether with ten cents change. 

“Here’s your quarter, young man, and you’ve 
earned It.” 

“I don’t want that quarter, I want a job,” and 
Tom looked the superintendent in the eye. There 
was a moment’s pause. “Where did you work 
last?” asked Mr. Finch. 

“Nowhere, just out of high school.” 

“We don’t like to break in green help.” 

“Try me a week and pay me if I earn anything. 
If I don’t, then don’t pay me. I got to make a start 
somewhere.” 

“How did you know the shortest way to Holt & 
Dart?” inquired Mr. Finch suddenly, and then Tom 
had to tell all about the New York game. 

“Good Idea, that,” said Mr. Finch. “I’ll try you 
one week at three dollars. You’ll run errands.” 

“Here Frank, what time did you get in this morn- 
ing?” 


21 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


Frank was one of the errand-boys and he now 
came forward with lowered eyes. “A little after 
seven-thirty, sir, but Fm usually on time.” 

“Let me see your time card for last week.” 

In a few minutes Frank returned and handed Mr. 
Finch the card. “Late every morning but one. Go 
to the cashier and get what’s due you. Now, Tom 
Stewart, here’s your chance to make good.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Tom, but it made him 
sick at heart to see the other fellow lose. 


CHAPTER IV 
A SIX o'clock start 

'"jpHE store Tom returned to was quite different 
in some respects from the one he had left. 
The hardware and fixtures had remained the same 
but there was a lady cashier rapidly preparing her 
cash for the day, there were five salesmen and three 
boys including the boy Frank who had just been dis- 
charged. There was also a tall, square-jawed man, 
walking the center aisle whom Tom quickly learned 
was Mr. Fort, or “the boss.” 

“When do you want to start in?” asked Mr. Finch. 

“Why, I was here at six this morning. I guess 
I’m already started.” 

“Looks like it,” said Mr. Finch with a smile, “but 
seven-thirty is soon enough and you’ll find it will pay 
you to be prompt. Look around between errands 
and get familiar with our stock and prices. Here, 
take this catalogue along with you, and here’s our 
discount sheet. What you don’t understand about 

23 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


ask me or one of the salesmen. Errands will be 
your main hold for some time to come. By the way, 
keep up that New York game. We need that sort 
of information a dozen times a day. Here, Mr. 
Phelps,” and Mr. Finch beckoned to the nearest 
salesman, “this is Tom Stewart, our new errand-boy. 
Keep your eye on him and break him into our ways 
of doing things.” 

“All right, Mr. Finch. Come with me, young 
man, there’s always plenty to do in this shop.” 

Tom’s first business day was so well filled that he 
was fairly surprised when six o’clock came round and 
he and the other boys and men commenced cleaning 
up preparatory to going home. The big gong at the 
rear of the store struck three sharp notes at just five 
minutes before six to notify the force that clean-up 
time had arrived. Tom had been so interested in 
everything that he had not noticed the lack of cor- 
diality of the two other boys, Mike and Fritz, nor 
had he appreciated the animus behind several petty 
acts of interference, but now there was no mistaking 
Mike’s ugly mood when he said, “Frank’s layin’ fer 
you. You will steal his job, will you? You better 
look out, cornin’ around here runnin’ with bundles 
and bringin’ back carfare to get solid with the super. 

24 


A SIX O’CLOCK START 


Oh, weTe onto you! You ain’t goin’ to last long 
here.” 

Tom was surprised but said nothing. He had 
been able to take care of himself in a New York City 
school and had no fear of Frank, but he did realize 
the fact that these young fellows disliked his methods 
of winning his way as it necessarily brought their 
own slovenly work into unpleasant contrast, and he 
feared these two would make all the trouble for him 
they could. 

It was at the crowded corner of Fourteenth Street 
and Fourth Avenue a little later that somebody 
tripped him up from behind as another young tough 
delivered a smashing blow just over Tom’s left ear. 
The suddenness of the attack sent him sprawling into 
the middle of the street where he was immediately 
seized by the traffic policeman. 

“Phwat ye doin’ fightin’ on a crowded corner. 
I’ll learn ye to create a disturbance on my beat. 
Stand where ye be till I sind fer the hurry-up wagon.” 

“But, officer, somebody hit me. I was not light- 
ing.” 

“Thin I arrest ye for sprawlin’ all over the street 
an’ delayin’ traffic. I know ye boys an’ I’m tired o’ 
yer pranks.” 

3 


25 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Look here, officer, I got a mother and two chil- 
dren I got to help support and I just got my first job 
today. If you arrest me, they’ll feel awful about it.’’ 

“None o’ that. Ye ain’t married — an’ two chil- 
dren. Go on wid ye ! I’ve a mind to let ye go fer 
the nerve o’ ye.” 

“It’s no joke. It’s my mother and sister and 
brother and I just got my first day’s work after hunt- 
ing for a job for a month. I’ll lose my job and the 
folks at home’ll be crazy till they hear from me.” 

“Are ye lyin’, kid?” and there was a change in the 
voice of this autocrat. 

“No, I’m not and I didn’t do a thing either, some- 
body hit me and somebody else tripped me up.” 

“That’s not likely. Who’d be doin’ that if ye was 
mindin’ yer own business?” 

“I think it might have been the boy who got fired 
today when I got my job.” 

“Ah, ha! that’s easy understood. Now beat it 
while your shoes are good an’ don’t let me catch ye 
ag’in.” 

Tom was thankful to get out of the scrape so 
easily and as he walked rapidly homeward, he was 
sure he saw his new enemy, Frank, disappear down a 
side street. “That was a dirty mean attack,” 
26 


A SIX O’CLOCK START 


thought Tom, ‘‘I’ll have to keep a good look out for 
a while, but he can’t keep that sort of thing up for- 
ever. It was his fault he lost his job, not mine.” 

When Tom mounted the stairs to his little home 
he was so full of enthusiasm over his successful day 
that he quite forgot that he had been knocked down 
and rolled over in the middle of the street and that 
his appearance had suffered accordingly. “Got a 
job,” he announced the minute he reached the top of 
the stairs, “and I’m going to keep it, too,” he added. 

“What is it, coal heaver on a barge ?” asked Mary 
with a twinkle in her eye at Tom’s dirty appearance. 
His mother was more concerned and immediately in- 
quired, “What’s happened to you, have you been 
hurt?” 

“Not a bit, just got knocked over and rolled 
around in the middle of the road. Forgot all about 
it till you mentioned it,” replied Tom, and then he 
had to report in detail everything that had happened 
from the time he took that bundle to Brooklyn. 

“Why, it’s our New York game that got you the 
place,” said Mary. 

“Surest thing you know. And now here’s some- 
thing else I’ve got to study,” and Tom pulled out of 
his pocket the catalogue Mr. Finch had given him. 

27 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Can’t we make a game out of that, too ?” queried 
Guy. 

“Not a bad idea. We’ll take fire-extinguishers, 
sporting goods, cutlery, agricultural hardware, car- 
penters’ tools and some of the other main lines and 
see who can quote prices and discounts from the 
names, sizes and numbers,” suggested Tom. 

“I don’t like that game. It’s too much like arith- 
metic. I’d rather play the New York game,” said 
Guy, who foresaw much work. 

“I’m afraid it won’t be much of a game to you 
folks, but I’m going to get those prices and discounts 
right no matter how much time it takes.” 

“I’ll help,” said his mother. 

“Me, too,” chimed in Mary with her cheerful 
smile. 


CHAPTER V 


TRICKS 

\\T HILE Tom’s job was to run errands, he was 
* ~ determined to learn everything there was to 
learn about the business and with this in mind he 
offered any spare time he might have between trips 
to the several salesmen. They used him to 
straighten out a show-case after some troublesome 
customer had fumbled over the entire display in 
order to select a cheap knife, or they had him stay 
after hours to help prepare the show-windows for 
the morrow. He made himself useful and made up 
in a measure for lack of knowledge by willingness 
to serve. It was the second week of his stay that he 
had another encounter with the discharged Frank. 

It was toward evening and Tom was returning 
from an errand, carrying a bulky bundle labeled 
“Fragile,” when a sudden push from behind sent him 
stumbling forward and it was the merest chance that 
saved his bundle from complete wreckage. In fall- 
29 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


ing he tumbled squarely against a young man who 
happened to be in the right spot at the right time 
for Tom. This enabled Tom to regain his balance, 
but the severe jolt did not put the powerfully built 
fellow he had fallen against in any very amiable 
frame of mind. It was here that Frank made a seri- 
ous mistake, for as he turned to run, he laughed at 
Tom’s discomfiture and called out, “Next time I’ll 
get you sure, you scab !” 

The young man who had acted as buffer for Tom’s 
fragile load sized up the situation accurately and, 
passing Tom at a bound, caught Frank in a vice-like 
grip and shook him till his teeth rattled. “You 
cowardly little rat ! Attack a man from behind and 
then run, will you ? Guess that’ll keep you good for 
a while,” and giving him an extra shake, he dropped 
the whimpering culprit in a heap and passed on. 

Tom waited for Frank to get up, then he said, 
“I’m not responsible for your being fired. I got my 
job fair and square and I’m going to keep it. What’s 
more, I can take care of myself, and if you keep on 
with your tricks. I’ll give you the worst licking you 
ever had in your life. If you want to fight, be a man 
about it, don’t try any more of your cowardly tricks. 
Better look for another job, you’ll never get mine.” 

30 


TRICKS 


“I’ll get square with you yet,” whimpered Frank 
as he slowly moved off. The little crowd which had 
gathered laughed and melted away and Tom con- 
tinued on his errand with his fragile bundle, thank- 
ful there had been no general smash-up. 

Mr. Fort was an unknown quantity to Tom. The 
man talked but little and the other errand-boys, Mike 
and Fritz, maintained he knew nothing about what 
was going on. These two had somewhat changed 
their attitude toward Tom by the end of his first 
month with Fort & Saxe. 

“Look here,” said Mike one morning before the 
arrival of Mr. Finch, “What’s the use of spoilin’ a 
good thing, the boss don’t know what’s goin’ on. 
All your quick work runnin’ errands and handin’ 
back carfare ain’t goin’ to do you no good. Nobody 
knows you done it. Better have a little fun on the 
side.” 

“I don’t know much about the boss,” replied Tom, 
“he hardly ever speaks to me, but I want to get 
ahead, and I don’t know any other way than the way 
I’m doing.” 

“We had it easy here till you came an’ we made 
more money, too,” said Fritz. “I most always 
walked and saved carfare. Say, if you will join us, 

31 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


we’ll put you wise to a new scheme to beat the time 
clock. I punches for Mike an’ he punches for me 
accordin’ to who’s late. We had duplicate keys 
made.” 

“I’ve got a better scheme for beating the time 
clock than that,” said Tom, without showing the 
trace of a smile. 

“What is it?” came from both boys. 

“Why, get here before seven-thirty in the morn- 
ing.” 

“You’re a sissy,” said Mike contemptuously. 

“An’ I suppose first thing you’ll do now will be to 
tell on us an’ we’ll get fired. They’ll raise your 
wages a dollar a week,” said Fritz with scorn. 

“No, I won’t say a word, but if I were you. I’d 
chuck those extra keys. You’d get fired quick enough 
if it was ever found out that you had duplicates.” 

“You’re no sport or you’d join us,” complained 
Mike. 

You re spoiling a good thing and acting like an 
old woman,” sneered Fritz, though it was evident 
both boys were weakening. 

I know one thing, Frank got fired for being late 
and your tricks are not on the square and won’t land 

32 



‘‘ ‘ Will you please hand me the duplicate keys to our 

time clock ? ’ ” 












t 


TRICKS 


you anywhere. I want to be assistant superintendent 
some day.” 

“That’s good coming from the new errand-boy 
at three per,” laughed Mike. 

“A fellow might have a chance if the boss was 
wise to how good he was, but he never sees anythin’.” 

“Well, I’ll take my chances playing the game the 
way I’ve started and you can do as you please. Now 
I don^t want to have to say anything about those 
duplicate keys, so I think you better hand them over 
to me.” 

Both boys protested but both produced the offend- 
ing keys and reluctantly handed them to Tom. “So 
long as I know you haven’t got these keys I won’t 
feel that I ought to say anything,” said Tom, and he 
wondered that these two fellows both older than 
himself should relinquish the keys to him with so 
little protest. He did not yet realize how very weak 
a thing is a guilty conscience. There was yet an- 
other surprise waiting for Tom that day. It was 
about four-thirty in the afternoon when he received 
word that he was wanted in the office. This had a 
rather ominous sound, and when Tom found himself 
actually ushered into the presence of the boss, he be- 
came truly concerned. This state of mind was not 
33 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


improved by the opening sentences of Mr. Fort. 
“You’ve been with us now about a month?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You had no references.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Will you please hand me the duplicate keys to 
our time clock?” 

“Yes, sir,” and Tom in anguish of mind laid the 
two accusing keys on Mr. Fort’s desk. He had 
given his word to say nothing if the keys were turned 
over to him so he sat there, his face burning and his 
heart in despair. It seemed hours before the boss 
spoke and to his surprise the voice was kindly. “I 
like your way of beating the time clock better than 
some other ways I’ve heard of. Your wages will be 
five dollars a week and when you earn more you will 
get more.” 

Tom fairly choked and strange questions rose in 
his mind, “Could this be the hard boss? How did 
he know about those keys? Was this the man who 
didn’t know what was going on?” 

“I’m so glad you didn’t think I had anything to do 
with those keys and I thank you for the raise,” he 
managed to say. 

“Tom, you’ve made a fair start, now study your 

34 


TRICKS 


stock, understand the system, learn how to sell, start 
a bank account. Don’t be afraid to start small, that 
doesn’t matter, but it does matter how you grow. 
Begin as small as you like but see to it that you 
grow. Today must be better than yesterday and to- 
morrow a little bit better still. There’s a lecture 
for you. I’m watching you.” 

Tom stumbled out of the office too happy to talk 
and longing to get home to tell the folks all about 
his good fortune. He was striving to reconcile this 
strange man who seemed to know everything with 
the boss who never saw anything and didn’t know 
what was going on. 


CHAPTER VI 


A NEW FRIEND 

T ET’S celebrate,” said Mary when she had heard 
^ the details concerning Tom’s raise in salary. 

“Better wait until I get my first extra money be- 
fore we spend it,” said Tom cautiously. His re- 
sponsibility as the man of the house was making him 
think more and more of the steps in the road which 
lead to success. 

“You are right, Tom, but you have been applying 
yourself so hard lately, early in the morning and late 
at night, that I think a little spree would do you 
good. It need cost very little,” said his mother. 

“How about movies?” inquired Guy. 

“That’s not a bad idea at all if we select one of 
the good ones,” replied Mrs. Stewart. 

“I want to see something with galloping horses, 
diving and swimming and a clown!” shouted Guy. 

“Just you wait a minute, you’re not the one who 
needs a change,” said Mary with a smile. 

36 


A NEW FRIEND 


“I can stand a change any minute,” retorted Guy 
defiantly. 

“Let’s look at the advertisements and pick out one 
we’ll all like,” suggested Mrs. Stewart. 

“Here’s a big show all about what the Govern- 
ment is doing. Submarines and battleships, flying- 
machines, coast defenses, printing money, military 
camps and West Point soldiers, all the departments 
at Washington and a great list besides. It takes the 
whole evening to see it,” said Tom. 

“That would suit me,” said Mary. 

“Any horses in It?” asked Guy. 

“Yep, U. S. Cavalry.” 

“Any clowns?” 

“You’ll be there. You’ll do for the clown,” said 
Mary. 

“Ah— hi” said Guy. 

“There’ll be fun in it, there always is in movies,” 
said Tom encouragingly. 

“Then that’s settled,” said Mrs. Stewart, “we’ll 
go and see what Uncle Sam Is doing.” 

The next day, Friday, found Tom at the store as 
usual, and as it happened there was no errand for 
him to run, he was at work with Mr. Phelps and 
Napoleon opening a new consignment of high-grade 
37 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


cutlery, razors, knives and scissors. During this 
labor Mr. Phelps was called to the front of the 
store to wait on one of those customers who thinks 
he gets no service unless always from the same sales- 
man. This left Napoleon working over the cases 
with Tom. Presently the negro desisted from his 
labors and slowly drawing himself up to his full 
height and assuming a sort of depressed dignity said, 
“Mistah Tom Stewart, yo knows as how I’se always 
been reasonable poor, I was born widout a nickel an’ 
I still has it, I knowed yo’ in yo’ less prosperous days 
an’ rememberin’ as I do a certain financial transac- 
tion dere was between us I recalls dat dere is fifteen 
cents still cornin’ to me.” 

“That’s so,” answered Tom in surprise, “but I 
offered it to you and you said you couldn’t take it 
because Mr. Finch told you not to.” 

“Das all right, but Mr. Finch done forgot about 
all dat by dis time an’ fifteen cents cornin’ at dis 
juncture ob mah career would tend to amel — , to 
amel — ,” 

“Ameliorate,” prompted Tom. 

“Thanks, ameliorate my present disorganized 
financial condition.” 


38 


A NEW FRIEND 


“It’s worth the money,” said Tom, handing over 
the fifteen cents. 

“What’s wort de money?” 

“Ameliorate,” said Tom soberly. 

“It’s a good one, ain’t it?” replied Napoleon with 
pardonable pride. 

Just here there came to the ears of the two 
workers a faint, far-off, smothered whimper. 
“Who’s dat?” asked Napoleon, glancing around ap- 
prehensively. 

The rear of the store opened on a little court 
or paved area that was all there was left of what 
had been a comfortable back yard when in the old 
days a house instead of a store had occupied the 
premises. 

“I hears it goin’ again,” continued Napoleon as 
the faint noise came once more to their ears. 
“Sounds like a baby whimperin’. It certainly 
wouldn’t be spirits in broad daylight.” 

“No, nor at any other time,” said Tom with a 
laugh. 

“Dere it is ag’in an’ makin’ a noise like splashin’. 
I’se beginnin’ to think sumpin’ queer is happenin’.” 

“Let’s look around and see where the noise comes 
from. It isn’t under these shelves.” 


39 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“No, worst part of it is, de noise is cornin’ from 
nowhar’ onless it’s out doors,” whispered Napoleon. 

“Well, then, let’s look around out in the yard. 
There it goes again, whining like a dog and splash- 
ing. Pretty queer, all right,” said Tom. 

The little paved court was just exactly what it 
had always been, nothing but a short back yard with 
a high board fence at the rear and on both sides. 
Still, as the sound persisted and seemed to come from 
over or under the rear fence, Tom proceeded with 
the help of Napoleon, who gave him a hand and 
shoulder, to scale that obstruction. Once astride the 
top Tom’s glance discovered what appeared to be 
the cover to an old well or cistern situated just the 
other side of the fence. He immediately dropped 
into the adjoining yard. Investigation showed that 
the cover to this old cistern was but carelessly ad- 
justed and that the noise they had been listening to 
came through an opening large enough to have per- 
mitted the passage of a man’s body. 

The stone slab which was the cover was too heavy 
for Tom to move unaided so he knelt down and 
peered anxiously into the black opening. He could 
see nothing, for the place was as black as the pit 
and when he brought his face to the opening he shut 
40 


A NEW FRIEND 


out what little light there was. However, he could 
hear a steady, tired splash, splash, splash, accom- 
panied by an occasional pleading whine. 

“It’s a dog!” Tom exclaimed. “How on earth 
did he get there ?” 

As he raised his head from the black opening, he 
saw the head and shoulders of Napoleon rising over 
the fence. “I’se got a ladder. Who is it?” 

“It’s a dog, fallen into a well.” 

“Who’d a thought there’d be a well lyin’ around 
out dere?” 

“Never mind how it got there, we’ve got to get 
that dog. You go to the plumbers’ supplies, section 
twenty-one, third tier, and bring me a weighted can- 
dle-holder with a candle in it. Bring a plumb-line, 
same section, lowest right-hand drawer. Bring 
matches, and hurry!” Tom could have given prices 
and discounts on the articles mentioned, but that 
would not have helped in the present instance. 
While Napoleon was gone Tom scaled the fence and 
procured a double skein of window-cord and making 
a slip-knot stood ready with his lasso when Napoleon 
returned. 

“Now, Nap, lower away your light and we’ll see 
who’s in bathing.” 

4 


41 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


Down went the tiny flickering light and Tom with 
his face to the hole could see the damp, moss-grown 
walls of the old cistern, while from below came the 
patient splash, splash of the tired swimmer. 

“Bet he’s nearly all in. Wonder how long he’s 
been in there.” 

For answer there came a short, sharp, hopeful 
bark and as the candle went lower and lower, Tom 
caught glimpses of the inky black water, ever so far 
down, and presently with the light but little above the 
surface he could make out the head and flashing eyes 
of a very much used-up dog. 

“Hold the light where it is,” Tom instructed Na- 
poleon, “there, that’s about right. Wonder what 
I can do with a lasso?” 

It was difficult to manipulate that stiff sash-cord, 
but Tom finally worked it over the dog’s head, and 
as the poor beast paddled about, he struck one paw 
through the loop. Tom immediately drew the cord 
which brought it firmly over the dog’s neck and 
shoulder. “I’ve got him!” shouted Tom. “Now 
give me a hand and we’ll haul him out in a jiffy! 
My, he’s heavy!” 

“Heavy as a pusson,” commented Napoleon. 

Another moment and a fine specimen of English 
42 


A NEW FRIEND 


bulldog was trying in every way known to the dog 
people to tell Tom and Napoleon how very glad he 
was to be out of that hole. 


CHAPTER VII 


NIGHT IN THE CITY 


OM never found the owner of that dog though 



he tried honestly to do so. He was, however, 
very glad that no claimant appeared, and Nap, the 
dog, seemed to feel much the same way about it. 
Tom had named him after Napoleon as both were 
so black, and also because it pleased Napoleon, who 
had remarked when the name was bestowed, “I done 
hep save dat dawg, why fo’ shouldn’t he bear mah 
name ? Napoleon is a good name for man or beast,” 
and so the black bulldog was christened. 

Be all this as it may, the rescued answered to Nap 
as though he had honestly borne the title all his three 
years. Tom was permitted to build a packing-case 
kennel for him in the rear yard of the house he lived 
in. The landlady surrendered to the argument that 
he was sure proof against thieves. “I’ve been ex- 
pecting to be robbed all my life,” said she, “and 
though it hasn’t happened yet, you never can tell. 


44 


NIGHT IN THE CITY 


Goodness knows I have little enough now, what 
would it be if I were robbed. As the saying is ‘they 
take it from them that hasn’t anything to give to the 
rich,’ or something like that, I can’t remember. Yes, 
you can keep the dog in the rear yard, and he may be 
the saving of us all, providing, of course, he don’t 
go mad and send us all to the Pasteur Institute which 
is expensive and goodness knows would be almost 
as bad as being robbed. Perhaps after all it would 
be better to turn him over to the police. Wh$n you 
come to think of his going mad, there’d be no saving 
against robbers.” 

“Bulldogs don’t go mad, Mrs. Simkins, it’s the 
other kind,” protested Tom. 

“Very well, then, you look after him careful like 
and I hope he don’t howl all night.” 

Nap never had to be taught to come when Tom 
called, for if he was loose, he was there already, 
nor did he have to be taught to lie down, sit, or 
stand, for he did all these things when his heart’s 
idol, Tom, did them. It was as though he bore con- 
stantly in mind the thought, “This man saved my 
life. I’m his forever. I’ll worship him till I die. 
I’ll work for him and fight for him and oh, how I 


45 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


wish I could save his life just to show him what I 
think of him!” 

Mrs. Stewart’s comment on the advent into their 
family of the dog Nap was, “Poor people always 
seem to burden themselves with useless domestic 
animals. All we need now is a cat and a goat.” 

“I’d like a Maltese cat or a coon cat,” said Mary. 

“And I’d like a goat,” spoke up the irrepressible 
Guy. 

“We could keep the cat in our flat, the dog in the 
yard and the goat on the roof,” suggested Tom. 

“And so be constantly surrounded by friends,” 
laughed Mary. “Wish we lived on a farm where 
we could keep animals, I’d like to have chickens as 
well as a cat.” 

“I don’t want to live on a farm. I want to be a 
successful hardware merchant. I want to work up to 
superintendent and own stock in our company. And 
I’m going to do it, too,” said Tom. 

“I believe you will,” replied his mother seriously. 
“I believe you can get anything if you really want it 
hard enough. It means sacrifice, but all things worth 
while mean sacrifice. You only get out of a thing 
what you put into it.” 

This talk took place about the supper-table where 
46 


NIGHT IN THE CITY 

such talks were apt to develop. There was a com- 
fortable sort of feeling on such occasions, a feeling 
that half-developed ideas and aspirations might 
safely be brought forth and fairly discussed to the 
benefit of the speaker. Even Guy brought his trou- 
bles and crude ideas before this board for its kindly 
consideration, its help and suggestions. But this was 
Saturday night and a great adventure lay ahead. 

“This city is a wonderful place when you can 
scrape off what’s on top and see what it really is 
underneath,” said Tom. 

“All you’ll find will be dirt and stones and sewer 
pipes and gas pipes, subways and electric wires,” put 
in Guy. 

“Hold on, look what happened when Nap fell 
into that well. Where did that well come from? 
Mr. Fort said it was on the old Stuyvesant farm and 
that what is now Third Avenue was the Bowery or 
country road to Peter Stuyvesant’s ranch. Think of 
that, our dog falling into Peter Stuyvesant’s well!” 

“He wasn’t our dog then,” was Guy’s irritating 
comment. 

“But think of our hardware store being on a farm 
and the old moss-covered well still there and as good 
as ever.” 

47 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


‘‘Good for nothing but for a dog to fall into,” per 
sisted Guy. 

“And now,” said Mrs. Stewart, “we’ll take a 
walk out over part of this great New York farm 
and see what it looks like at night. It’s the most 
wonderful farm in the world.” 

It was a summer night and the white-clad workers 
from the street cleaning department were flushing 
the asphalt pavement so that it glistened black and 
reflected the lights from the street lamps. There 
was a coolness in the air brought in on a liberal 
breeze from the great and wonderful harbor which 
sifted impartially among the narrow streets of the 
great city. The portion of the breeze that belonged 
to this side street had been cooled again by passing 
over the wet asphalt, so that its refreshing breath 
touched and inspired one little group of pleasure 
seekers as they walked toward the greater brilliance 
of Sixth Avenue. 

“I like the sound of that water running in the 
gutter,” said Mary, “it’s like a brook.” 

“What do you know about a brook? You’ve al- 
ways lived in the city,” said Tom. 

“Of course I know what a brook is like. I’ve 
been to Bronx Park, and I can remember once, be- 
48 


NIGHT IN THE CITY 


fore father died, that he took us all to the country 
where there was a wonderful brook right through 
fields and fields of grass and where he caught trout 
and brought them home,” said Mary wistfully. 

“Your father was a great fisherman and loved to 
be out of doors,” said Mrs. Stewart. 

“I’d like to fish, too,” said Guy. 

“I’d like the fishing, all right,” said Tom, “but I 
don’t want to go to the country. I want to make 
good in the hardware business, it’s the greatest busi- 
ness there is. You can’t do anything without the 
things we sell.” 

“So long as you feel that way about what you are 
doing, you’re sure to succeed,” said Mrs. Stewart. 
“Here’s Sixth Avenue, let’s walk north to Thirty- 
fourth Street and Broadway.” 

When they arrived at the intersection of Broad- 
way and Sixth Avenue the full glamour of the Great 
White Way shone forth scintillating, glittering, a 
strange product of the twentieth century. Aside 
from the millions of stationary lights, there were 
the great electric lights on the sides and tops of 
buildings as far as one could see, some in motion, 
others still, and advertising everything from chew- 
ing-gum to automobile tires. 

49 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“The chewing-gum signs chew, the wheels on the 
^uto signs go round, the ginger-ale sign pours ale 
into a glass and the glass fills up, the wind blows the 
electric flag and you see it wave — all by electricity. 
It certainly is great! We sell electric fixtures,” said 
Tom. 

“Your mind is on your business, certainly,” 
laughed Mary. 

“I’m going to be an electrician,” said Guy. 

“I thought it was a policeman,” reminded Tom. 

“Ah— hi” said Guy. 

“It’s brilliant, it’s truly wonderful, but I don’t 
like it,” said Mrs. Stewart and here they turned into 
their chosen theater. 


CHAPTER VIII 


TOM MAKES A MISTAKE 

movies were great,” said Tom as the little 
procession stepped once more into the glare 
of the electric signs and other lights that made the 
Great White Way famous. 

“I can remember everything. Wish they gave us 
history that way in school,” said Guy, “then I’d 
never have to study. I’d just be interested.” 

“They talk of doing that very thing. They are 
doing it already in some schools,” replied Mrs. 
Stewart. 

“How smart grown-up people are getting to be,” 
said Guy with relish. 

“How smart some very young people always are,” 
said Mary. 

“Ah — hi” said Guy. 

The side street was dark enough compared with 
the riot of light on the big avenues. Also it seemed 
the people, few and far between, who lurked here 

51 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


and there, were not of the same gay sort that 
crowded the Great White Way. Several beggars 
accosted them on their homeward journey and most 
of them uttered their appeals in a sing-song tone that 
indicated long use of the same threadbare phrases. 
Usually the song ran, “Say, mister, won’t you help 
a fellow in hard luck. I’m a carpenter, I just got in 
today on a freight from Pittsburg. I’m looking for 
work, ain’t had nothing to eat for two days.” Tom 
had walked the streets of New York in search of 
work so long that he knew this sort of grafter well 
and when one of them was very insistent and even 
threatening, he stopped him short with, “I know 
your graft, better move on or I’ll call a cop.” The 
effect was instantaneous and satisfactory. There 
were other beggars whose appeals were genuine and 
where the call for aid went to the hearts of the little 
group. 

“One reason I’d like to be a successful man would 
be so I could help some of these,” said Tom thought- 
fully. 

“That’s a good reason for wanting money, and I 
hope you get it some day,” said Mrs. Stewart. “Here 
we are home and I’m mighty thankful you found 
work so we can keep our little household together.” 

52 


TOM MAKES A MISTAKE 


“Walt till I get a job and we’ll be rich,” said Guy. 

“Get your lessons first so you’ll be worth some- 
thing,” suggested Mary. 

“The more you know, the more you’re worth,” 
said Tom, quoting from the boss. “I’m glad to- 
morrow’s Sunday. I’m tired.” 

“Breakfast at eight-thirty and all ready for church 
at ten-thirty,” called Mrs. Stewart as the young 
people turned in. 

Monday morning appeared on schedule time and 
Tom was given a bundle of silver-plated tableware 
to deliver up in the Bronx. He had with him a re- 
ceipt which listed the various articles which the cus- 
tomer, a Mrs. Saltair, was to sign. In this instance 
he had also checked back the receipt himself with 
the original order so he knew that the order was 
properly filled. 

It was rather a pretentious flat that Tom called 
at that morning and the bell-boy allowed him on the 
elevator with reluctance because of his bundle. 
When he finally reached the apartment door a maid 
in curl papers slammed the door in his face and com- 
municated his errand to the mistress. This impor- 
tant personage appeared in about fifteen minutes and 
scolded Tom for getting people up so early. She 
53 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


was tall and stout, red of face and gray of hair, and, 
like the maid, was crowned with curl papers. She 
was not in an amiable mood and Tom had learned 
enough to say as little as possible under such circum- 
stances. 

“I’ll look them over,” she said sharply as Tom 
delivered his package. 

Tom waited a long time and when Mrs. Saltair 
reappeared she had worked herself into a very ef- 
fective show of wrath. 

“They are not at all as ordered,” she snapped, 
“you may take them all back.” 

“Why!” exclaimed Tom, “I looked over your 
order this morning and everything is exactly as or- 
dered, the way Fort & Saxe always do.” 

“Oh, you did, did you?” Then turning to her 
maid, “Did you hear that, Clara, ‘The way Fort & 
Saxe always do,’ that’s quite smart from an errand- 
boy.” Then turning and glaring at Tom, she or- 
dered, “Take those things back. I’ll see Mr. Fort 
and he shall know how impudent you’ve been.” 

Tom felt he’d made a mess of things, somehow, 
yet he knew he was right so far as the facts were 
concerned. 

As he rode home in the subway he turned the mat- 

54 


TOM MAKES A MISTAKE 


ter over in his mind. “She said the goods were not 
as ordered but I know they were. I stood up for our 
house and I know I was right.” 

When at length he reached the store with his 
bundle it was necessary to explain the difficulty 
he had met with in trying to make the delivery. 
This he did in the presence of Mr. Fort who hap- 
pened to be nearby. He repeated the short con- 
versation accurately and his own part in justifying 
the house of Fort & Saxe he emphasized with some 
pride. 

“There’s where you were all wrong as a sales- 
man,” said Mr. Fort. “Put this down where you 
will never forget it. The customer is always dead 
right. Have no arguments with the customer, he 
pays our rent, our salaries, clothes our children, buys 
our houses. We are here to serve the customer, when 
we can no longer do that. Fort & Saxe are out of busi- 
ness. If the matter is serious, bring it to Mr. Finch 
or to me, better still, never let it get serious enough to 
have to bring it to either of us.” 

Tom was utterly taken aback. Here was advice 
that seemed unreasonable. “The customer always 
right,” he repeated slowly, “I thought Fort & Saxe 
always right, we try hard enough.” 

55 


were 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Yes, but what are we trying to do ?” inquired Mr. 
Fort sharply. 

“Why, sell hardware,” answered Tom auto- 
matically. 

“Well then, take this instance, and see where you 
lost a chance to sell hardware. Mrs. Saltair says 
the goods are not as ordered. What should be your 
next step? You should say, ‘Very well, Mrs. 
Saltair, I’m sorry they are not as you want them, but 
here’s our catalogue, make your own selections. 
We’re glad to take back this shipment, or any other 
that you do not like.’ Then like enough you’d have 
had an order to take the place of the one lost, now 
you have not only lost an order, but as it stands, a 
customer as well.” 

Tom felt it dreadfully. “Let me go back and get 
her to take other goods,” he pleaded. 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to go myself before this can 
be fixed up,” said Mr. Fort. “You are not to blame 
overmuch, you’re not a salesman, but if you ever ex- 
pect to be one you must learn to put yourself and your 
feelings in the background; the sale is your object 
and the sale depends on the customer. When you’re 
selling, watch your customer as a cat watches a 
mouse. See your goods through his eyes, feel them 

56 


TOM MAKES A MISTAKE 


with his fingers and lead him gently till the sale is 
made. Remember also the sale is never quite com- 
plete so long as the customer lives and you want to 
continue doing business with him, so the sale must 
be complete from every point of view.’’ Mr. Fort 
smiled. “You’ll learn by your mistakes, but don’t 
make the same mistakes right along.” 

“Let me try her again this afternoon,” pleaded 
Tom, insisting on a dangerous chance. 

“I’m afraid you’ve killed yourself there, but you 
may try it, if you think you can make good. Here, 
Mr. Phelps, fix Tom up with a good line of samples 
of tableware, he knows the prices, and let him have 
another try at Mrs. Saltair. I know her well enough 
to fix this up if he fails.” 

Mr. Phelps shook his head. “She’s a holy ter- 
ror,” he muttered, “and I’m glad Tom told her the 
truth, she got what she ordered and that’s all there 
is to it.” 


i 

1 

1 


5 


CHAPTER IX 


TOM GOES BACK 

T LIKE a fighter,” continued Mr. Fort. “If 
youVe been a coward and run away, go back 
and fight it out. Then you’re no coward. If you’ve 
told a lie, go back and tell the truth, then you’re no 
liar. If you’ve made a mistake, go back and correct 
it, then you’re no fool. Go back, son, if you ran 
away and take your licking. If you lied, admit it, 
and that’s hard, or admit your mistake and get 
laughed at, and that’s harder, but you’ll know you’re 
a man and so will every other man. Don’t drag a 
chain of little defeats, lies and mistakes around for 
life, go back and cut them off before it is too late. 
All men run away at times, all men lie at times and 
all men make mistakes. Those who go back and 
fight, or admit the lie, or correct the mistake, as far 
as possible, get to the place some day where they 
don’t run from anything, where they tell the truth 
and where they make fewer mistakes and so they be- 

58 


TOM GOES BACK 


come real men. Now you go back and fix it up with 
Mrs. Saltair,” he added with an appreciative smile. 

Mr. Phelps laid out a complete sample line of 
plated tableware for Tom that afternoon and as 
the latter inspected it, he exclaimed, “Why, you’ve 
put in a set of samples of the very grade she just 
returned.” 

“Oh, that’s all right, she’s just as apt to order 
that again as anything! She’s only ordered it once 
and only returned it once, that’s nothing for some 
women. When you can put your hand over your 
heart and say you understand them, you may be 
a wonder, but the chances are you’re plumb 
crazy!” 

Tom laughed. “Wish I understood Mrs. Saltair 
well enough to straighten out the mess I made as a 
salesman this morning.” 

“Don’t worry. When you see her this afternoon 
you may find her a regular ‘Sunny Jim’ ; women are 
changeable,” and Mr. Phelps, who was a bachelor, 
looked very wise. 

“Wonder if she wears curl papers all day?” 
queried Tom. 

“Did she have ’em on when you called this morn- 
ing?” 


59 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“She certainly did, the whole family was wearing 
them.” 

“That accounts for your trouble. Never talk 
business to a woman wearing curl papers. She 
knows she’s not looking her best and she just wants 
you to clear out. You can’t do business with her 
when she feels that way.” 

“Wish I’d known that before.” 

“Oh, well, she may be all fussed up this afternoon, 
and you’ll have an easy time.” 

It was about three o’clock when Tom again ap- 
peared before Mrs. Saltair and the vision that met 
his eyes was quite other than he had looked for. 
Mrs. Saltair was no longer a grumpy, gray, elderly, 
fat lady but though a trifle plump, her complexion 
was of a youthful shade of pink, her eyes were bril- 
liant and she had the most becoming curly brown 
hair. Tom was not quite sure of her but he managed 
to say, “I have some samples here from Fort & Saxe 
for your approval. Mr. Fort wanted me to show 
you these and if there isn’t anything here that you 
like. I’ll bring other samples till I’ve shown you 
everything in our store,” Tom finished, breathing 
heavily. 

“Oh, how lovely, how perfectly lovely! Clara, 
6o 


TOM GOES BACK 


do come here and help me make a selection; Fort & 
Saxe goods you know, the very best.” 

The maid Clara responded promptly and Tom 
was surprised to note that her attitude toward 
Fort & Saxe was precisely that of her mistress. He 
also noted that there were no papers in her 
hair. 

“Phelps is right,” he said to himself, “it makes a 
difference. Pll never try to sell anything to a woman 
when her hair is put up in curl papers.” 

“Now, Clara,” continued Mrs. Saltair, shaking 
her long black earrings contemplatively, “do help 
me to make a wise selection.” 

Tom had placed the samples on the dining-room 
table where they made an excellent display. “How 
much does this set cost?” asked Mrs. Saltair, indi- 
cating the one she had returned so indignantly that 
very morning. Tom quoted the price. “Rather too 
expensive but I do like them,” commented Mrs. 
Saltair. “What do you think of them, Clara?” she 
added, turning to her maid. 

“Perfectly lovely,” echoed Clara having caught 
the drift of her mistress’s mind. 

“I think I prefer these,” said Mrs. Saltair, indi- 
cating the highest priced set of those shown. 

6i 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“They are nice,” murmured Clara, ready to swing 
with the tide. 

“Yes, but expensive,” continued Mrs. Saltair. 

“They are expensive,” admitted Clara. 

“But I do like them better than the others,” said 
Mrs. Saltair. 

“They are nicer,” said Clara. 

“I think I’ll take the first set,” said Mrs. Saltair. 

“They’re better value for the money,” said Clara. 

“Thank you, Clara, for helping me make up my 
mind.” 

“Now, young man,” said Mrs. Saltair, turning 
to Tom, “see that this set is delivered promptly, and 
thank you for bringing so many for me to select 
from. Thank Mr. Fort for me.” 

“With pleasure,” said Tom, as he gathered up 
his samples. He filled out his order sheet in dupli- 
cate and left one copy with Mrs. Saltair. The maid, 
Clara, showed him to the door and Tom had made 
his first sale. 

As he rode home, Tom turned the matter over and 
over in his mind. “She didn’t say a thing about 
sending me flying this morning. She selected the 
same set I brought then. She was agreeable. She 
was just a different person. What was wrong this 
62 


TOM GOES BACK 


morning, I wonder? Guess it must have been the 
curl papers. I wonder if I’ll ever make a salesman.” 

When Tom got back to the store, he felt privi- 
leged to call at the ofEce to report his remarkable 
success with Mrs. Saltair. 

“Feel better now?” inquired Mr. Fort, looking up 
from the letter he was reading. 

“Yes, sir,” answered Tom. “It feels better to 
come back with a sale than the loss of one.” 

“I know how it feels,” replied the boss, “selling 
is a great game.” 

“But she was so different from this morning. Then 
everything was wrong, now everything seems right. 
She re-ordered the very set she turned down this 
morning.” 

“Ha, ha!” laughed Mr. Fort. “There’s no ac- 
counting for the way a woman’ll change her mind; 
some men just as queer,” he added grimly. 

“I’d like to be a salesman,” suggested Tom. 

“Like the game, hey? Well, we’ll see. Remem- 
ber what I said about going back and correcting a 
mistake before it’s too late?” 

“Yes, sir, and I’m glad I went.” 

“Feels better to leave the matter the way it is now 
than the way you left it this morning, doesn’t it?” 

63 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“I should say so, and I thank you for letting me go 
back;’ 

“Now, Tom, Fm going to put you at tending the 
door a while. That seems like a very simple matter 
but it’s a very important one. You can yank the 
door open in such a way as to make a customer feel 
like an intruder or you can swing it open so as to 
make him feel welcome at once.” 

“Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.” Though Tom 
answered bravely, he was distinctly disappointed. 
“Doorkeeper I” he murmured to himself, “why it’s 
a poorer job than errand-boy. I thought my next job 
would be assistant to one of the salesmen.” 


CHAPTER X 


DOORKEEPER 


OM watched that front door for six long 



^ months. Here he learned the names of many 
of the customers and they also got to know him. It 
was his place to inquire the wants of those who en- 
tered there and direct them to the proper salesmen. 
He became in time a regular bureau of information, 
answering questions as to stock on hand, prices and 
discounts, and he also learned to be polite under all 
conditions and with all customers. 

He had only been at his new post a little more than 
a week when Mr. Fort strolled down to the front 
door early one morning and facing Tom looked him 
over slowly from head to heel. “Where are the 
Universal Window Fasteners?” he asked. 

“Section forty-eight, four lower drawers, right- 
hand side,” answered Tom, thinking for the mo- 
ment that the boss had asked for information. 

“Price per gross in bronze?” 


65 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Twenty-four dollars.” 

“Nickel?” 

“Twenty-eight dollars.” 

“Jobbers’ discount?” 

“Sixty, ten and five.” 

“Trade discount?” 

“Fifty, ten and five.” 

“Right, your wages are now seven per week. 
Keep right on the way you are going.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Tom, and as the boss 
walked off up the aisle, he added, “I didn’t know I 
was being examined. One thing sure, I start a bank 
account with the first two dollars of my new raise. 
Won’t mother be glad to know how I’m getting 
along, it’ll cheer her up, she hasn’t seemed any too 
well lately.” 

Saturday night Tom started a bank account at 
the National Savings Institute, a bank making a 
point of staying open evenings for just such fellows 
as himself. It was a proud moment when he signed 
the big book and after depositing his two dollars 
was handed his first pass-book. He told his mother 
and Mary and Guy all about it when he returned, 
but there was another matter which, though not 
really very important, was engaging a lot of the time 
66 


DOORKEEPER 


and attention of all the people in any way connected 
with Fort & Saxe and that was the great annual out- 
ing given by the firm for their employees. It was a 
big family affair and as it was always well-managed, 
it was sure to be thoroughly enjoyed by all who took 
part in it. To various committees were assigned the 
duties of providing music, a grand dinner and enter- 
tainment, and as novelties under this latter head were 
always in order, home talent of various sorts was apt 
to be in evidence and was sure to be as thoroughly 
appreciated as professional service. 

Tom had an idea of his own for providing one 
feature of the entertainment on which he worked 
industriously, and when the great outing day came, 
he was prepared with the help of several of the sales- 
men and Mike and Fritz to put his scheme through. 

It was an August morning dry and clear with 
promise of great heat later in the day. Tom and 
his mother, Mary and Guy were all down at the 
North River Pier with the other members of the 
families and friends of the employees of Fort & 
Saxe. The steamer on which they were to sail away 
was fast to the dock with steam up and all ready the 
moment the last belated passenger should have come 
aboard, and of course, that passenger had to be the 
67 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


one least expected. The great hawser had been 
thrown off the spile and drawn aboard the side- 
wheeler which was slowly swinging out toward the 
Jersey shore, when a volley of short, anxious barks 
called attention to the rapid approach of a black 
bulldog whose short and crooked legs were being 
worked under severe pressure. The gap between 
the dock and the boat was rapidly widening but Nap 
took a chance and projected his stumpy body into 
mid air. No one expected to see him land on the 
boat, but he did succeed in hooking his short front 
legs over the scuppers, and the tall colored gentle- 
man who pulled him in the rest of the way remarked, 
“Clare to gracious, if dis ain’t de second time I’se 
saved yo’ from drownin’, nex’ time I’se gwin’ let yo’ 
hab yo’ own way.” 

“Why, it’s Nap!” exclaimed Mary, when the 
wearer of that name had sought her out in the crowd 
and insisted on showing his enthusiasm at the meet- 
ing. “Nap, you rascal 1” exclaimed Tom, but though 
they tried to scold him, he was such a good-natured 
chap that they soon gave it up and when Napoleon 
told how nearly he had lost himself in coming 
aboard. Nap immediately became the hero of the 
occasion and was petted instead of being censured. 

68 


DOORKEEPER 


“Dat dawg got a mind o’ his own,” commented Na- 
poleon, “when he mek up his mind he gwine some- 
where, dat’s whar he gwine.” 

“I’m almost* ready to start something,” said Tom 
to his assistants, “but I’ll wait till the music stops.” 

When there came a pause in the flow of sound, 
Tom, supported by Mr. Phelps and several other 
salesmen mounted a chair and faced his good-natured 
audience. “The time has come,” he commenced. 
“Hear, hear!” called Mr. Phelps. “The time has 
come,” repeated Tom, “to set before the American 
investing public the Great North Western Cat 
Ranch Proposition. The falling off in the supply of 
all fur-bearing animals, due to the fact that so many 
of them are shot and the rest die of old age and 
other diseases, has made this the opportunity of a 
lifetime.” 

“Hear, hear I” shouted Mr. Phelps, and he added, 
“Get your check books ready I All checks, promises 
to pay, I. O. U.’s accepted at full face value. We 
trust everybody!” 

“The purpose of this great Ranch Company,” con- 
tinued Tom, “is to operate and develop the greatest 
cat ranch on earth. The location is not yet posi- 
tively decided, but it is thought the Great North 
69 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


West will do because there is so much room out there 
and everything started there always succeeds.” Here 
he hesitated a moment for words. 

“There’s a lot of cleared land in Massachusetts,” 
came a voice, and Tom started a little to find Mr. 
Fort was one of the audience. His slight embar- 
rassment passed quickly and he went on, “The loca- 
tion is not important so long as we have plenty of 
room. Now to get down to brass tacks, we will col- 
lect about one million cats, all kinds. Each cat will 
have about a dozen kittens per year. Skins are 
worth ten cents each for white to seventy cents each 
for clear black, and, to be on the safe side, we will 
say about thirty cents average per skin. Thus you 
see we will have twelve million skins each year which 
at thirty cents will give us a daily gross income of 
about ten thousand dollars.” The large figures 
brought out many exclamations from Tom’s audience 
and some applause. There were shouts of “Go on,” 
and thus encouraged Tom went on. “Friends, these 
are dry statistics, but I trust you will find them inter- 
esting. At two dollars a day a man can skin fifty 
cats. It will take about one hundred men to run the 
ranch and so our net profit will be nine thousand 
eight hundred dollars per day. 

70 


DOORKEEPER 


“Now to feed the cats we will start a rat ranch 
right along side the cat ranch. It is a well-known 
scientific fact that rats multiply just four times as 
fast as cats, hence, if we start with one million rats, 
we will have four rats a day for each cat which is suf- 
ficient. The carcasses of the cats will feed the rats, 
one-fourth of a cat to each rat. Thus you see the 
business is self-sustaining, continuous, automatic. 
The cats will eat the rats and the rats will eat the cats 
and we will get the skins. 

“The Great North Western Cat Ranch Company 
is a stock company. Shares are now offered for the 
first time, and it is a wonderful opportunity to get 
rich suddenly and without work. My assistants will 
now pass round the certificates. Anything that looks 
like money will be accepted or, if you left your pock- 
etbook at home, a promise will do as well. This is a 
liberal offer and no man, woman, or child should go 
home without a share in the stock of the Great North 
Western Cat Ranch Company.” Tom sat down 
amid great applause as his assistants, Mr. Phelps 
and the other salesmen, circulated among the excur- 
sionists distributing flaring stock certificates on the 
reverse side of which appeared the program for the 
amusements of the day. 


71 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


As Tom passed Mr. Fort a little later the boss 
asked, “Your idea, that cat ranch?” 

“I borrowed it,” replied Tom with a smile. 

“It was your application then of another man’s 
idea?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Then put your wits to work and get me some 
good novelty in the way of an idea for our window 
display.” 

“I’ll try,” said Tom. 

“Now I’ve got myself into trouble,” he said later 
as he stood with his little family group looking over 
the rail of the steamship as they sped down the great 
New York harbor, and he told them of his conver- 
sation with Mr. Fort. 

“It’s the beginning of more important work for 
you,” said Mrs. Stewart. “Mr. Fort thinks you 
have original ideas and he’s going to give you a 
chance to work them out.” 

“The hardware business is certainly the greatest 
business in the world!” exclaimed Tom, “every- 
thing seems to fit into it.” 

“You’ve found your place,” said Mrs. Stewart. 


CHAPTER XI 


WORKING OUT AN IDEA 



HE excursion was a great success, but it seemed 


to have left but one impression on Tom and 
that was the need of discovering some big idea that 
would work up well in the show-window of Fort & 
Saxe. Mr. Fort talked little, but he had a way of 
stimulating his men to do their best and the thought 
he had planted in Tom’s ambitious mind kept work- 
ing constantly. 

“Mother,” said that somewhat over-anxious youth 
on the Sunday morning following the great picnic 
day, “I haven’t a single original idea in me. Since 
Mr. Fort spoke of my suggesting something for that 
window, I can’t seem to capture an idea of any sort.” 

“Don’t be in such a hurry; Mr. Fort doesn’t ex- 
pect you to sit down and grind out wonderful 
thoughts for his business. He simply thought you 
showed signs of originality and he directed your 
mind toward window display. He’s in no hurry, he 


6 


73 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


never is, all he wants is for you to give him the bene- 
fit of any novel idea that might be used in the busi- 
ness.” 

“But I want to show him what I can do.” 

“Perhaps you just want to show him how smart 
you are. Just forget yourself for a while and your 
thoughts will come around to you in plenty of time. 
Now get ready for church. If it’s a clear afternoon, 
we’ll all make a visit to the Museum of Natural His- 
tory. Promise me to keep your mind off the hard- 
ware business for the rest of the day.” 

“I’ll try my best,” replied Tom. 

The morning passed quietly enough and three 
o’clock in the afternoon found the little group in the 
great Museum amid other seekers of profitable pleas- 
ure, people of the New World and of today trying 
to read and understand the people of the Old World 
and of yesterday. So many things of interest were 
before them, that finally Mrs. Stewart sat down on 
a bench exhausted. “There’s altogether too much, 
and besides, I can’t seem to get my breath as easily 
as I used to. I’ll have to rest a while.” 

“I’ll stay with you, mother, while Guy looks at 
the Indian exhibit; he’s interested mostly in the 
weapons. He never tires of that,” said Mary. “It’s 
74 


WORKING OUT AN IDEA 


queer how everything that has to do with fighting 
interests a boy,” she continued. 

“Fd like to be a soldier, and fight Indians,” said 
Guy. 

“But they don’t use tomahawks and bowie-knives 
nowadays,” persisted Mary. “Why are you inter- 
ested in the old war things?” 

“It isn’t so much what they used to kill themselves 
with as the kind o’ men they were,” explained Guy. 

“Go along with you and get all the good out of 
it you can,” and Mary banished the younger brother 
with a sweep of the arm. “And now, Tom, what 
have you been looking at?” asked the sister as the 
older brother came out from a double row of glass- 
cases. 

“I’ve been looking at the greatest collection of 
hatchets I ever saw, never knew there could have 
been so many different kinds.” 

“Right in your own line, too,” said Mary with a 
smile. “Hardware forever!” 

“Now don’t let him get his mind on business 
again,” said Mrs. Stewart, “a wholesome man ought 
to be interested in many things besides his business.” 

“But you’ve just given me the idea I needed!” 
exclaimed Tom excitedly. 

75 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Who has?” asked Mary. 

“You have,” said Tom, “you just said those stone 
hatchets are right in my line. Now I have my idea 
and I can rest. Mother, I’ll not give hardware 
another thought today, but I had to get my idea 
first” 

Mrs. Stewart sighed as the young folk started off 
on another excursion among the relics of bygone 
ages. “So like his father : he, too, would work out 
an idea to the bitter end. Well, it’s a good trait,” 
and Mrs. Stewart settled back on the Museum bench 
and shut her eyes. 

The rest of that day and on into the night Tom 
tried hard not to think hardware, but he did think 
of hatchets. He thought of the primitive man 
clothed in the skins of wild beasts and armed with 
his crude stone ax ; he thought of the knight in armor 
with his flashing battle-ax, of the Indian with his 
tomahawk, of the double-edged ax used by those 
wonderfully skilled axmen of our own north woods; 
he thought of the remarkable collection of axes, 
hatchets and hammers shown in the great Museum, 
and then he thought, “Fort & Saxe handle the finest 
axes, hatchets and hammers made. I’ll work out a 
show-window that people will talk about.” 

76 


WORKING OUT AN IDEA 


Tom was weeks in getting his material together. 
He found he could not borrow stone hatchets from 
the Museum of Natural History, but it was through 
the kindness of one of the officers of this institution 
that he learned of a small private collection that he 
did borrow for Fort & Saxe, so that when he was 
ready, he had a specimen of nearly everything in axes 
and hatchets from the stone age down to the great 
American ax of today. The display showing the 
evolution of the ax required both large show-win- 
dows and attracted so much attention that Mr. Fort 
kept it in the windows for more than a month. 

“Your own idea?” asked Mr. Fort. 

“I don’t 'quite know,” replied Tom. “When I 
tried to think of something original, I hadn’t a 
thought. I went to the Museum one Sunday and 
somebody said the ax exhibition was in my line. No, 
it wasn’t my own idea, I borrowed it.” 

“Good! We all work by suggestion. Keep your 
mind awake and borrow ideas from anywhere that 
fit the hardware business. Don’t be afraid of an 
idea because it’s new. Now you work with the win- 
dow display men whenever we make a change in 
display. Your ax idea was good. Try for another 
suggestion.” 


77 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“I haven’t another thought left, that was my only 
one,” said Tom rather mournfully. 

“Ha, ha !” laughed Mr. Fort. “Used up all you 
had in your one window display. Now listen to me. 
I started just as you did. I want you to look ahead 
and make up your mind what you want and go about 
making it yours. You’ll hear a lot said about luck, 
and there is such a thing, but you’ll notice, if you 
keep your eyes open, that luck comes to the fellow 
who is prepared for it. Something worth thinking 
about there, isn’t there? It’s a little strange that 
luck should come to the man prepared for it, isn’t it? 
Just turn that thought over in your mind that pre- 
paredness makes you ready for luck when it comes. 
Some call it opportunity.” 

Tom thought it over very carefully. There was 
a certain amount of luck that came to him, usually 
in the form of more or higher grade work, and now 
the window-dressing meant night work and that 
meant a little extra money, and as this money was an 
extra it went into the small but steadily growing 
bank account. Tom was growing and getting ready 
all the time for another step forward. 


CHAPTER XII 


WHAT DID YOU SEE? 

/^NE morning not long after the ax exhibition, 
business had taken Tom downtown to one of 
the great hardware stores on Park Row. While 
there he had nosed around taking mental notes of 
the differences in the stock carried and in the way of 
handling it as compared with the Fort & Saxe rneth- 
ods. He returned with his mind full of questions as 
to why Fort & Saxe did not carry some of the lines 
displayed by the store he had just been through. As 
he entered the door he overheard Mr. Fort saying 
to Mr. Phelps, “You’ve got to keep some of the old 
standard lines even though you know of modern 
makes superior to the old ones. New York City is 
not one great modern town but a collection of vil- 
lages, some domestic and some foreign, some up to 
the minute and some very old-fashioned. Why, 
there are homes in this city where they still keep 
a volume of universal information alongside the 
79 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


family album on the center-table, have an organ in 
the parlor and put out the cat promptly at nine P. 
M.” 

“Guess we’ll have to keep the old lines, then,” 
said Mr. Phelps with a smile. 

“Certainly, the demand will be steady if not 
large,” said Mr. Fort, and as Tom entered, he turned 
to him with, “You’ve been to Porter & Porter’s this 
morning?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Tom. 

“What did you see?” 

“Why, er, I saw about all they had,” stammered 
Tom. 

“No, no, tell me what you saw. Hardware is 
your business. You’ve just been in a competitor’s 
place. Now, what did you see?” 

“I saw they keep a full line of sheet brass, all 
gauges, and we don’t.” 

“That’s seeing something. Go on, what else did 
you see?” 

“I saw a full line of brass tubing, of copper tubing 
and sheet copper, of copper and brass wire. It took 
a whole floor for just these items, so there must be a 
good demand. Why don’t we keep them? Nobody 
else has them uptown,” answered Tom stoutly. 

8o 


WHAT DID YOU SEE? 


“Good! That’s seeing something. Now, how do 
you know nobody else carries these lines uptown?” 

“IVe been errand-boy and been sent out to all the 
hardware stores one time and another to get special 
parts and things we don’t carry, and there isn’t an- 
other store uptown that carries a line like I’ve just 
told about seeing at Porter & Porter’s.” 

“That’s seeing, that’s seeing, and you’ve given 
me something to think about. It’s a good ques- 
tion to ask yourself once in a while, ‘What did 
you see ?’ ” 

When Tom had been with Fort & Saxe a little 
over two years his salary had been raised to twelve 
dollars a week and he had been in every department 
as assistant salesman. He had also served a short 
time as stock clerk and had helped out on the books 
one summer when the bookkeeper had been home 
sick. 

It was on a brisk March morning that he was 
called into the private office of Mr. Fort, and this 
time he entered that place of questions with some 
assurance for he knew his record was good. 

“Tom, you’ve been with us now for more than two 
years. You’ve been about everything from errand- 
boy to assistant salesman, and while you’re rather 
8i 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


young, I’m going to give you a chance as salesman 
at fifteen dollars a week.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Fort. I’ll make good, I know. 
I can’t help but make good. I love the work, I be- 
lieve in the house and the goods.” 

“That’s the talk, that’s what makes a salesman.” 

“I’m saving up my money and some day I want to 
buy stock in this company.” 

“Save your money, but as to stock in this com- 
pany — well, we shall see.” 

“I want to be part of this concern.” 

“Every one who works here with us is part of this 
concern just as much as I am.” 

“Still, I want to be a stockholder. I want to own 
part of it, if it’s only a very small part,” persisted 
Tom. 

“Well, then, stick to your purpose, but there’s 
no hurry, you may find something better to do 
with your money when the time comes. Hold to 
your dream, though, and hold hard. First the 
dream, then efficient work toward that dream and 
the dream will come true, but you’ve got to have 
the dream first.” 

“I’ve had the dream ever since I ran my first er- 
rand here,” said Tom. 


82 


WHAT DID YOU SEE? 


‘‘Been coming true ever since, hey?” asked Mr. 
Fort with a smile. 

*‘Yes, but the dream keeps growing.” 

“That’s the only kind of a dream to have. If 
you’ve no .dream, it’s a sure sign you’re in a rut, and 
as the rut gets deeper it makes your grave.” 

“No rut for me,” said Tom as he rose to leave. 
“Thank you again, Mr. Fort. I’ll earn it.” 

“I know that or you wouldn’t get it, and I hope 
that’s only a beginning,” said Mr. Fort. Then as 
Tom turned to go, he added, “Think ahead; all 
things are thought out first; thoughts are things.” 

Tom went home that night with much to think of. 

He was now nineteen years of age and was a real 
man though a young one. Mary was blossoming out 
into a young lady and Guy had graduated from gram- 
mar school and was now in high school. The only 
cloud on the horizon which occasioned any great 
anxiety was the health of Mrs. Stewart and this was 
serious. Tom, Mary and Guy had taken the matter 
in hand and were doing all that young people could 
do to make life easy for their mother, but the dry 
cough continued and the doctor insisted Mrs. Stew- 
art should leave the city. To this end a vacation 
was planned for Mrs. Stewart in the cool Catskill 

83 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


mountains, and though she protested at the expense, 
she was made to go and there she stayed through the 
long summer. Tom and Mary kept house and Guy 
did his part by getting a summer job as errand-boy 
in a bank and here the great New York game served 
him well. Tom managed to keep his savings intact, 
but they did not grow any to speak of this year. 
Mrs. Stewart improved slowly, but when she came 
back in the fall. Dr. Davis, who examined her thor- 
oughly, gave it as his opinion that she could not live 
in the city. 

Here was a problem such as Tom had never 
reckoned on. It seemed to him like the end of the 
world. All his plans for his future were laid in his 
business. Fort & Saxe was the cornerstone of his 
life. To move to the country on account of his 
mother’s health meant the ruin of his prospects, now 
so well-founded, of becoming a successful hardware 
merchant. To Tom it looked like failure. 


CHAPTER XIII 


A NEW COUNTRY 



OM had a restless night of it. Over and over 


again he fumbled with his problem, “Must 
mother go to the country? Could she not be taken 
care of in the city just as well? Would another 
doctor give different advice? If she really had to 
go, could he not remain and still work with Fort & 
Saxe and support the family better by so doing?” 
When at length morning came, he had reached 
the conclusion that he would interview Dr. Davis 
once more and then lay the matter before Mr. 
Fort and be guided by the advice of these two able 
friends. 

It was almost noon when by appointment he called 
on Dr. Davis and when he was seated in the inner 
office he unburdened himself at once. “Doctor, is 
it absolutely necessary for us to move to the coun- 
try? I want to do what’s right, but it ruins all my 
plans to leave the city. I don’t see how I can help 


85 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


support the family, as I am now doing, if I lose my 
present position.” 

“I’m sorry, Tom, but your mother is threatened 
with serious lung trouble. Plenty of cool, fresh air 
with milk and eggs and I think her chances are good 
for many years to come. With ample means she 
might even recover in the city, uptown, opposite the 
park with everything money could buy, but for 
people in your circumstances the country is the only 
reasonable solution. Your mother has some income 
from insurance money and with what you can earn 
you could get along nicely, and in the end you might 
do just as well in a business way in a small town as 
in the city.” 

“Oh,” groaned Tom, “all I’ve worked for these 
years goes for nothing!” 

“You’re wrong there, for though I’m no business 
man, I know that every last thing you have learned 
about business will be of use to you later. Besides, 
that’s not the question,” added the doctor sharply, 
“the question is, is it worth while to prolong your 
mother’s life?” 

“There’s no question about that at all, and I’d 
already made up my mind to go, but it is costing me 
so much that I want to make sure it is absolutely 
86 


A NEW COUNTRY 


necessary, that’s all. I’d go If it meant prolonging 
her life by one day.” 

“That’s the talk I like to hear,” said Dr. Davis 
kindly. “I’m afraid It is absolutely necessary to 
make this change. Quietness, fresh air and proper 
food will work wonders In this case and the farther 
back from the sea the better. I know a town over 
the hills west of here, pretty close to the Pennsyl- 
vania line, that would be just about right. I’m mak- 
ing some inquiries for you now. I want the right 
town and the right sort of house for you. There’s 
no use making the change till we have just what Is 
best for my patient.” 

“Doctor, I want to thank you for all this. I’ll do 
what you say. I know you are doing the best possi- 
ble for my mother.” 

“Well, Tom, there are not many women like her 
and we must see to it she has the best we can give 
her. I know it’s hard for you, for Mrs. Stewart has 
told me of your progress with Fort & Saxe, but I 
believe you’ll make a place for yourself even in a 
country town. Many of our biggest and best busi- 
ness men have come from the country. You can 
work it out there as well as In the city.” 

“I’ll try at any rate,” and Tom left with his an- 

87 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


swer from the doctor and returned to the hardware 
store where he laid his problem before Mr. Fort. 

“Tom, I’m sorry. I want you in our business, but 
there’s only one answer to your problem, go with 
your mother I I’ll give you a recommendation that 
will help you get a place in some other hardware 
store, and if you get to the place where you start 
for yourself I’ll give you a line of credit here that 
will be as good as capital to you. Should you ever 
return to the city, theje’s a place for you with Fort & 
Saxe. Keep in touch with me. If you strike a likely 
town, we might be tempted to start a branch. I be- 
lieve in you, Tom Stewart. Stick to your own line 
and you’ll work out your problem as well in a small 
town as here.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Fort, you’ve helped me from 
the first.” 

“Nonsense, you’ve helped yourself. You forced 
yourself on us by main strength, and when you pro- 
posed beating the time clock by getting here early 
you made a real start and you’ve been growing ever 
since. Now you’re not going to stop growing sud- 
denly just because you have to move to another 
town. The same kind of work that means success 
here will mean success in any place on earth.” 

88 


A NEW COUNTRY 


“rm going to stick to the hardware business wher- 
ever I go. I like it, it’s my business.” 

“And you’ll be a success, son, but you’ll need your 
courage and all you’ve learned here. Making a 
change of the sort you propose is hard, but you’ll 
be all the more a man when you win out.” 

Tom felt greatly encouraged by these talks with 
these two men in whom his belief was strongly 
founded, and he talked quite cheerfully of the com- 
ing change. 

“Tom, I’m greatly concerned that you are to make 
this change on my account,” said Mrs. Stewart that 
evening as they talked over the whole matter at the 
dinner-table. 

“I’m not,” said Guy. “The country’s the place 
for me. I want to be a farmer and raise things 
to eat.” 

“I thought it was a policeman.” 

“Ah— h!” said Guy. 

“I’m glad we’re going to the country,” said Mary. 
“I think it will be much nicer than the crowded city 
and mother will get well and strong and we’ll all be 
so happy.” 

“We’ve always been happy here,” said Mrs. Stew- 
art. “And so long as we keep together I’m sure we 

o9 


7 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 

shall be happy an3rwhere, only let us never separate. 
I can stand anything but that.” 

Dr. Davis found the future home for the Stewart 
family and it was west of New York near the Penn- 
sylvania line. It was in the hill country and the 
little house was singularly well situated, with im- 
provements not usually found in country dwellings, 
and what was equally important, the rent was very 
low. All these items had been carefully considered 
by the doctor, but mountainous country, far removed 
from the coast moisture, had been the determining 
factor in the selection of Steubenville for the new 
home. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE NEWCOMERS 

O TEUBEN VILLE reposed in the broad valley 
which separated two long lines of blue hills, 
mountains, they were called by the natives, who had 
never seen the great western ranges. There was 
one main street which was therefore called Main 
Street, and from this central artery of commerce pro- 
jected several other streets, the rear ends of which 
were built up with business houses, but which shortly 
passed this sort of structure to find themselves lined 
with the comfortable residences of the townspeople. 
Reaching out farther still these streets became the 
high roads, which pierced the farming country for 
miles in all directions. It was these roads which had 
made Steubenville the financial and business center 
of that end of the State, for though the population 
of the town was not more than five thousand, it sup- 
plied the wants and handled the produce of a wide 
and rich farming country. 

91 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


In common with other small American towns, 
Steubenville was well supplied with churches, there 
being six in all, all struggling desperately to make a 
showing, and with a full report of their various en- 
terprises to be read in the columns of the Steuben- 
ville Eagle which took an uncertain flight every Fri- 
day. The American House had been the sole hos- 
telry since Revolutionary days and was patronized, 
mainly, by traveling salesmen, largely because there 
was no other hotel in the place; but the post office 
was the real social and news center of the town. 

Main Street ran the length of the valley and on 
one of the branch streets, crossing to the north and 
up through the hills. Dr. Davis had secured for the 
Stewart family a little white cottage surrounded by 
pine trees. There was a small barn in the rear, there 
were chicken houses and a tool-house and all were 
like the little white house itself in that they were in 
good repair and clean as a whistle. Dr. Davis had 
managed well for his patient, for there was a care- 
fully laid-out vegetable garden, a smooth lawn and 
newly dug flower gardens, and though it was early 
spring, many hardy flowering plants and shrubs gave 
promise of blossoms to come. 

Tom brought his family to Steubenville arriving 
92 


THE NEWCOMERS 


late one Saturday afternoon. He did not know that 
the group about the railway station was there mainly 
to see the cars go by. He did not know that the com- 
ing of the Stewart family was a matter of great local 
interest, or that every trunk, bag or package that 
came with them was carefully noted, and that a 
description of every stitch they had on was accurately 
reported to the town at large by the lynx-eyed news- 
gatherers who witnessed them alight from the cars. 
There being no passengers for the American House 
the afternoon on which the Stewarts arrived, the 
hotel stage took the whole family, bag and baggage, 
to their new home. How little they realized that 
their journey through Steubenville was as public and 
as carefully reported as that of an inaugural trip of 
a new president down Pennsylvania Avenue ! It was 
not the news item that would appear in the Friday 
Eagle which counted in Steubenville. That was 
meager publicity indeed compared with the carefully 
itemized information concerning the newcomers that 
passed from lip to lip, from store to store, from the 
post office to the ends of the roads that ran out and 
into the hills via a wireless system as old as man. 

The modest furniture of the Stewarts had pre- 
ceded them and was distributed rather indiscrim- 


93 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


inately about the house. The first and great neces- 
sity was to prepare temporary sleeping quarters for 
the new arrivals. Tom was in charge, well supported 
by Mary and Guy, while Mrs. Stewart was com- 
manded by all three to be seated on the porch in a 
comfortable chair in the warm spring sunshine and 
wait until a room was well prepared for her occu- 
pation. In addition to the help rendered by Mary 
and Guy, Tom had secured the services of a middle- 
aged native woman by the name of Martha Acker, 
so with the help of this useful person the work of 
getting to rights progressed rapidly. 

“It seems strange to come into a new place like 
this where you know no one and nobody knows you,” 
remarked Mary as they were at work preparing the 
room Mrs. Stewart was to occupy. 

“Now never you mind about them not knowin’ 
you,” responded Mrs. Acker with emphasis, “they’s 
not a old woman nor yet a young child in Steuben- 
ville that don’t know all about you, and they knowed 
it the moment you laid foot on the station platform.” 

“Why what nonsense, why should they care about 
us?” 

“It was knowed that you had three trunks, a suit- 
case and a dog and two small bags, besides the small 
94 


THE NEWCOMERS 


one Mrs. Stewart carried, and there was her coat 
Mr. Tom Stewart carried, which was considerable, 
him carryin’ the two bags and runnin’ back for the 
suit-case to the stage, which only strangers uses, 
everybody in Steubenville always walkin’. And it 
was knowed Mr. Tom Stewart had to give up his 
New York job and Mrs. Stewart was here for her 
health, and we all knowed what there was to the 
furniture, because that come first. They ain’t no use 
tryin’ to keep nothin’ to yourself in Steubenville, 
they ain’t nothin’ nobody knows here but what every- 
body else knows it.” Mrs. Acker stopped for breath 
and went on with her work. 

“It seems so funny. Why should they care? In 
New York even the people that lived downstairs 
didn’t know us or care anything about us, and I 
shouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t know we’d 
moved yet.” 

“It ain’t that way here,” continued Mrs. Acker. 
“I could tell you offhand just what’s been goin’ on 
here for twenty years and about all anybody’s got. 
It ain’t that I picks into other people’s affairs, but 
you don’t have to ask nothin’ in this town ’fore it 
gets told to you. There’s Alicia Norton gets the 
news first. I don’t know how she does it, but she 
95 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


gets it, and then the other old maids has it from her 
confidential and then the whole town has it, and it 
don’t take long gettin’ spread about neither.” 

“Well, I guess we’ll have to grin and bear it. 
Glad we haven’t any family secrets.” 

“Wouldn’t do you no good if you had ’em, they 
wouldn’t stay secrets long in this town. They knows 
all about you — from what’s bangin’ out on the line 
to whether your grandfather was a horse thief or a 
undertaker.” 

“If everybody’s looking at us as closely as that 
we’ll have to behave ourselves,” said Mary. 

“Oh, you gets used to it after a while and it don’t 
make no difference I I seen men in this town behave 
as bad as though there wan’t nobody lookin’ at ’em.” 

So it was well known in Steubenville that the 
Stewarts had arrived, and by the time Martha Acker 
had finished her work in assisting to make them com- 
fortable for the night she had acquired other inter- 
esting information about the little household that 
sent her direct to the post office as soon as her labors 
were over for the day. She had no letters to wait 
for, but she found Alicia Norton mailing a return 
postal card. 

“I ain’t got no call to mail this card,” said Alicia, 

96 


THE NEWCOMERS 


“but it’s got the address printed on it and I filled in 
the blanks as requested, not that I wants their old 
catalogue, but I says it ain’t fair not returnin’ their 
post card when they pays for it and asks as a favor 
for you to return it. I hope they don’t send their old 
catalogue.” 

“Oh, Alicia, jest listen, I got to tell somebody or 
bust I I jest been to the Stewarts, they got — ■” 
“Land sakes I do tell ! I won’t tell a soul — •” 
“Well, now, listen. I hadn’t ought to tell, but — 
hush, here comes Mr. Tom Stewart; some other time. 
I’ll tell—” 

“Oh, I can’t wait. I’ll walk down the street with 
you — there never was so much goin’ on in Steuben- 
ville!” And the real news agency of the town 
walked off up Main Street arm in arm. 


CHAPTER XV 


ON TRIAL 



OM spent a week at the little white house help- 


ing to put it in order and found it very 
pleasant work. He also saw to it that Guy made a 
start at the local high school. Mrs. Stewart was 
made very comfortable in her bright room with its 
southerly exposure, and the rich creamy milk and 
fresh eggs supplied from a nearby farm were just 
exactly the fare Dr. Davis had advocated. 

“I’ll have my own chickens next week,” said Mary. 
“I’m going to start with a dozen Leghorns ; they tell 
me they’re great layers.” 

“I wish I knew something about farming so I 
could run that vegetable garden,” said Tom. “Guess 
I’ll have to leave that to Guy, he’ll have time to 
learn how. Hope I’ll be able to land a job in town. 
I feel like a fish out of water without a job. I’m 
going the rounds this afternoon to see what chance 
there is for employment.” 


98 


ON TRIAL 


“Don’t you worry ; you’ll land somewhere and be 
one of the leading men of the town,” encouraged 
Mary. 

“I haven’t the least uncertainty about that,” said 
Mrs. Stewart. “Tom has proved himself already 
and his business training with a first-class house will 
be of great value to some concern here.” 

“I’ve been about town a bit and I can’t say I feel 
much encouraged,” replied Tom. “There’s only 
one hardware store, unless you can call that combina- 
tion blacksmith shop and junk-heap across from the 
post office one, and it isn’t likely that the one shop 
in the place is just ready to take me in because I 
happen to be in need of work.” 

“Well, don’t discharge yourself before you’ve ap- 
plied for the job,” remarked Mary. “Anyway, I’ll 
support the family on fresh eggs till you do get 
work.” 

“I think it’ll take more than twelve old hens to 
keep this plant going. I’ll try my luck after dinner.” 

“Mr. Henderson has promised to show Guy how 
to run a kitchen garden,” said Mary. 

“That’ll be good. We’ll live on your hens till 
the vegetables are ready and then we’ll turn vege- 
tarian and live on the garden.” 

99 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Oh, you’ll be in business by that time and with 
the hens and the garden we’ll be living on the fat of 
the land.” Mary could always see the bright side 
of any situation, but Tom felt the responsibility. 
Immediately after the noon meal he polished his 
shoes, brushed his clothes, put on a fresh collar and 
strode rapidly down the tree-lined walk to the vil- 
lage center. 

It was a short walk east and west on Main Street 
till one came to the ends of the business section and 
Tom walked the full distance both ways before he 
turned into Slocum & Stilwell’s hardware store. 
Tom liked the looks of the place, though it did not 
come up to the high standard of Fort & Saxe. “I 
like the smell of hardware,” he thought to himself, 
“there’s no other business for me.” 

There was no one in the store as Tom entered and 
while waiting for the appearance of one of the firm 
he noted several important differences between the 
class of stock shown here and in the New York stores. 
There were farm implements of all kinds, some of 
which Tom only knew from catalogue description, as 
they had not been carried by Fort & Saxe. A lot 
of space was devoted to seeds and the show-window 
was given over to fishing tackle, guns, ammunition 
100 


ON TRIAL 


and other sporting goods. These and other differ- 
ences in stock caught his eye at once and he presumed 
rightly that locality was the cause. “I’ll have to 
learn another side of the business, hope I get the 
chance,” he was thinking when an elderly man with 
pointed gray beard and sharp gray eyes entered the 
store from the rear and approached Tom. “Any- 
body waiting on you, Mr. Stewart?” he asked. Tom 
was beginning to realize fully that he was as well 
known throughout the town as though he had been 
advertised. 

“No, but I would like to see one of the firm.” 

“I’m Mr. Slocum.” 

“Glad to know you, Mr. Slocum. I’ve been in the 
hardware business with Fort & Saxe and as I’ve come 
here to live. I’d like to get back in my own line. Any 
chance for me here ?” 

“Nothing right now. You see there’s my boy, 
Sam, and Mr. Stilwell’s two sons were here before 
Sam came in and Stilwell and I ain’t dead yet. Wish 
we had a place for you seeing you’ve been with Fort 
& Saxe. Got a recommendation?” 

“Yes,” and Tom produced that valuable paper 
which Mr. Slocum read as carefully as though he 
had serious intentions of employing Tom. 


lOI 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“That’s a strong recommendation. Sorry we have 
no place for you. We buy a few special lines from 
Fort & Saxe, nice people to do business with. We 
could take you on for a few weeks now and then 
especially around the holidays.” 

“I’ve got to get steady work somewhere and pretty 
soon, too. Do you know of any place in town where 
my training would make me valuable?” 

“Can’t think of any. We’re the only hardware 
store worth mentioning. The only other is Jethro 
Lincoln’s junk shop opposite the post office.” 

“I wasn’t sure that was a hardware store.” 

“That’s what he calls it and he refers to us as his 
competitors,” and Mr. Slocum’s sarcasm as he used 
the word “competitors” was very pronounced. 

“He’s got a good central location,” said Tom. 

“Yes, and he was here before we came and had 
what trade there was. We’ve only been here twenty- 
live years.” 

“Can’t you figure out to use me in some way as 
salesman out among the farmers, anything to make 
a living.” 

“You would never make a salesman here. You 
got to know the people by name and who their par- 
ents were and when they died and what they died 


102 


ON TRIAL 


of and who was at the funeral. No, no chap from 
New York could sell these farmers; they’d be sus- 
picious of you from the start.” 

“What am I going to do ?” It was almost a cry 
of desperation. 

“Oh, there’s other work to be had in a town this 
size, but I guess you’ll have to give up the hardware 
business! We got all o’ that and it’s just about 
enough to take care of us nicely.” There was a 
touch of grim humor in Mr. Slocum’s voice for it 
was well known that he was wealthy. “No,” he 
continued, rubbing his hands complacently, “there’s 
no room for another hardware man in Steubenville.” 

Tom turned and walked out of the store like a 
man in a dream. He had shot his one bolt. Slowly 
he walked west on Main Street, the haphazard coun- 
try stores on either side making no appeal to his 
imagination. Over and over to himself he kept ask- 
ing the question, “Shall I have to give up the hard- 
ware business, shall I have to ask for work in a 
grocery store, a harness shop or a drug store and 
give up all my training? Must I give up the hard- 
ware business? Is there really no room for another 
hardware man in Steubenville ?” 


CHAPTER XVI 


OPPORTUNITY 



OM tried for work at the leading grocery store, 


Simpkins’s, and was promised work for Sat- 
urday afternoon and evening. He tried Hart’s drug 
store, and then having started, he tried every 
store in town and finally the Eagle office. After his 
first call he found it unnecessary to announce his 
errand for everyone in town knew it. He was well 
received everywhere and in the most friendly spirit, 
in fact it was a continual surprise to him to find the 
proprietors of many of the shops he called on so 
ready to drop what they were doing and devote half 
an hour or more to telling him how sorry they were 
that they were unable to offer him encouragement. 
In many cases he found the shop a sort of family 
affair to which outsiders were not expected to annex 
themselves save by marriage. Tom called on the 
proprietors of every shop in Steubenville save one 
and that was the queer looking hardware shop op- 
posite the post office. He had a loathing for that 


104 


OPPORTUNITY 


store and a presentiment that should he apply for 
work there his services would be accepted. The 
place was so utterly different from what it should 
have been. He felt he could have no pride in em- 
ployment there and that unless he owned it and had 
the money with which to make the needed changes 
the “junk heap,” as Mr. Slocum had aptly called it, 
could never be made to look like a real hardware--* 
store. 

It was Friday and the Stewarts were seated about 
the table enjoying the evening meal. Tom, trying 
his best to be cheerful, had reported his utter failure 
in his attempts to find work. “Pve been in every 
store in Steubenville,” he said, “and there isn’t a 
thing for me to do in the whole place. I’ll have to 
take up farming which is something I know nothing 
about and don’t care for. I want to stick to my own 
line, the hardware business.” 

“And you’re right,” said Mrs. Stewart, “and it 
can be brought about, too, I believe. How would 
it do to write to Mr. Fort and ask his advice? You 
ought to have the counsel of an experienced man at 
such a time as this.” 

“I’ll think it over,” said Tom, “but I ought to be 
able to solve this problem myself.” 

8 105 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Oh, be a farmer,” said Guy. “It’s the best life 
of all, if you can’t sell what you raise you can turn 
around and eat it.” 

“You better turn around and eat your food prop- 
erly,” admonished his sister, for Guy as usual had 
been racing. “Can’t you keep from sprinkling the 
floor with crumbs?” 

“Better take your meals in the bathtub,” suggested 
Tom. 

“Ah — h!” drawled Guy, and then to get square 
with his elder brother he added, “You got turned 
down at every store in town, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, I got to admit I did.” 

“Did you call at Jethro Lincoln’s hardware em- 
porium?” 

“What I The junk shop opposite the post offce? 
I hope I haven’t got down to that yet.” 

“Thought you said you’d been to every store in 
town.” 

“So I have, but I don’t call that a real store.” 

“I bet you could make a real store out of it. It’s 
a kind of hardware store now,” and Guy spoke with 
conviction. 

That the idea was not absolutely new to Tom was 
shown by his answer. “Think I could, do you? I 
io6 


OPPORTUNITY 


hoped I wouldn’t have to try, but I guess that’s the 
only chance left. Ever seen Jethro Lincoln?” 

“Sure, he visited our school yesterday. Sat on the 
platform at assembly and then gave us a speech. 
Said we all ought to know Latin. Said he never 
went anywhere without a copy of Virgil, and a lot of 
stuff like that.” 

“I’ll see him tomorrow morning. Wonder if he’s 
got so many of his family running his junk heap that 
there isn’t room on the pile for me ?” 

“Other young men have had a worse start. I 
hope he gives you a chance, and if he does, I want 
you to write Mr. Fort telling him all about it and 
asking his advice. Don’t get out of touch with that 
man,” advised Tom’s mother. 

Tom called early Saturday morning, but Mr. 
Jethro Lincoln was not in. However, a large, over- 
grown, tow-headed, freckle-faced boy of sixteen met 
Tom’s inquiry with, “Looking for dad? He’s in the 
blacksmith shop if he hain’t finished and gone out to 
the farm. He was lookin’ for you. My name’s Bud, 
Bud Lincoln.” 

“Looking for me, what do you mean?” 

“Why, he said he reckoned he’d like to know 
why he’d been left off your callin’ list,” and Bud’s 
107 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


broad smile showed he appreciated his father’s 
humor. 

“Well, that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to slight 
anybody,” said Tom. 

“Ain’t no use lookin’ for work here, dad ain’t got 
no more use for a New York clerk than a toad has 
for a pocketbook.” 

“I’m not a New York clerk, and I want to see your 
father.” 

“Better hustle then — here, out this way. He’s 
back in the shed shoein’ Lawson’s gray. Mebbe he’s 
gone to the farm.” 

“What, hardware store, blacksmith shop and 
farm?” 

“Yep, an’ yet we ain’t got enough to do let alone 
takin’ on city help.” 

Tom glanced about him as he picked his way 
through the clutter of odds and ends strewn about 
the floor, and his heart sank within him, and it actu- 
ally gave him a feeling of relief to think that such a 
place could not possibly be in need of an additional 
helper. “It needs a fire more’n anything else,” he 
thought, as he followed Bud Lincoln through the side 
door down an alley way to the blacksmith shop in 
the rear. It was not a real blacksmith shop any 
io8 


OPPORTUNITY 


more than the store was a real hardware store, and 
Tom rightly guessed that a farm run by the same 
management could not be a real farm. To the rear 
of the yard back of the store was the barn in which 
Mr. Jethro Lincoln had erected his forge. There 
he stood now, tall and spare and muscular with one 
hand on the bellows while with the other he stirred 
the fire or turned his whitening horseshoe. He was 
so intent on his work that he paid no attention to 
the visitor standing in his doorway. Tom looked 
him over carefully; tall, lean and with an exceedingly 
interesting face, a man of whom much might be ex- 
pected. 

“Dad,” called Bud above the wheeze of the bel- 
lows, “this here’s that New York chap you was 
speakin’ about, the one that’s been to every store in 
town askin’ for work. Your turn’s come.” 

“There isn’t any work for him about this place, 
but I want to have a good look at him. I want to 
see the man that has the nerve to try every place in 
town.” Mr. Lincoln didn’t take his eye off his work 
as he spoke nor did he glance round while the sparks 
flew from the anvil as stroke followed stroke on the 
blazing shoe. “There,” he remarked, “as good a 
shoe as a horse needs to wear. Nails, Bud I” he 
109 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


called, as he caught the gray’s hoof between his knees 
and began working away with the rasp. In short 
order the shoe was In place and to Tom’s inexperi- 
enced eye it looked like a good job. Dropping the 
shoed hoof, much to the relief of the gray, Mr. 
Lincoln straightened himself to his full height and 
looked in Tom’s direction. Tom liked the look of 
the man though Mr. Lincoln’s gaze was deliberate 
and penetrating. “How are you, Mr. Stewart,” he 
said. “Had any luck?” 

“No,” replied Tom, “and I’ve got to get work 
somewhere.” 

“Wish I could help you, young man. I never had 
a stroke of luck in my life myself, but I’d like mighty 
well to help somebody else strike it right. There 
isn’t enough to do in that shop to keep Bud busy. 
’Course you tried Slocum & Stilwell’s; they got 
pretty near all the hardware business in town.” 

“Yes, I tried them, but couldn’t something be done 
with your hardware store ?” 

“Have you seen it?” 

“I just walked through it.” 

“Isn’t that enough?” 

“I don’t know what you’ve got in the way of 
stock.” 


no 


OPPORTUNITY 


**You say you’ve been in the hardware business 
with Fort & Saxe?” 

‘Tes, sir.” 

“And you’ve seen my store ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And you’re willing to go to work in my store ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Then you’re plum crazy, or you’re desperate,” 
and Mr. Lincoln smiled broadly. 

“Yes, I’m desperate.” 

“Then I’ve a good mind to hire you, but come to 
think of it I couldn’t pay you any wages because I 
haven’t anything to pay with. The blacksmith shop 
doesn’t pay, the farm doesn’t pay and the hardware 
store doesn’t pay, take ’em all together they’re a 
poor lot.” 

“See here,” said Tom desperately, “I got to work 
and all I know is the hardware business. Let me 
take your shop and see what I can do with it. I 
can’t make it any worse than it is now.” 

“That’s true, and that’d give me a chance to run the 
farm or the blacksmith shop, but you can’t do any- 
thing without money. It takes money to make money.” 

“Let me have a try. If I can make anything out 
of it, well and good. If not, there’s no harm done.” 


1 1 1 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“All right, son, and I wish you luck. If you can 
make a go of it, you’re a better business man than I 
am. When do you want to start ?” 

“Right now.” 

“Go to it. It’s all yours,” and Mr. Jethro Lin- 
coln stepped on the hub of his dilapidated farm 
wagon and vaulted into the seat. “Look around and 
get acquainted. Bud’ll show you all there is to it. By 
the way, let me see your recommendation. Well, I 
never! You were with Fort & Saxe and they cer- 
tainly think well of you.” Mr. Lincoln handed back 
the paper and drove off. Tom watched him swing 
down the alley and into the street. “He wasn’t dead 
sure I’d been with Fort & Saxe till he read the rec- 
ommendation ; thought no one but a fool would have 
taken a job in his junk shop without pay. Maybe 
I’m a fool, but I’ll show him ! Come on, Bud, show 
me your store.”- 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE JUNK SHOP 

OM and Bud walked down the alley to get to 
^ the front of the store. 

“It’s quicker going this way than scramblin’ over 
all that mess in the store,” remarked Bud. 

“Seems to me I’d have cleaned up long ago if I’d 
been you,” commented Tom. 

“’Tain’t no use, nobody comes to our store, any- 
way. Father says it ain’t no use botherin’.” 

“Show me everything, and we’ll see if it isn’t 
worth bothering.” Tom spoke confidently, but as 
they turned out of the alley and faced the store some- 
thing of the confidence left him. The two show- 
windows were hopelessly dirty, and what had been 
gilded lettering on the glass read, 

THE INCO N HARD ARE CO. 

Last year’s fly specks were over the glass and 
woodwork. Fly paper dating from last summer still 

113 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


reposed in one corner of the right-hand window. In 
each window a badly bent gas fixture staggered from 
the ceiling and on one an old coat had been hung. 
In the display spaces of the windows were several 
empty boxes, a rusty gun, an old-fashioned ice-cream 
freezer, a coil of wire and several broken door-knobs. 
The doors opened on squeaky hinges as the two en- 
tered, and smoke from the disorderly cylinder stove 
in the center of the store filled their nostrils and 
made their eyes water. 

“Something the matter with the draught,” said 
Tom. 

“It always acts that way in the mornin’.” 

“How do you expect customers to stand this 
smoke ?” 

“Don’t expect ’em.” 

“Let’s fix the pipe.” 

“Now?” 

“Yes, now.” 

“What’s the hurry?” 

“Isn’t it time something was done?” 

“You can’t work with those clothes on.” 

“Get me your father’s overalls.” 

“All right, they’re in back, wait a minute.” 

While Bud felt his way around in the rear of the 
114 


THE JUNK SHOP 


store trying to locate his father’s overalls, Tom had 
a chance to take a good look around. To do this 
he opened the front doors to let out some of the 
smoke, and though the spring air was chill it was 
bright with sunshine and in from the distance floated 
the cheerful note of a song sparrow. 

With eyes red from the pungent smoke, Tom 
viewed The Lincoln Hardware Store and began to 
realize what he had undertaken. “It’s been a real 
store once,” he thought, “but now, now, it is a junk 
shop. Slocum was right.” 

Tom’s eyes swept the walls on either side with 
their rows of drawers which had once been filled 
and labeled with a sample of the contents affixed just 
below the knob of each drawer. Now some of the 
drawers were half open, a few had their specimens 
of contents in place but which, Tom was to find later, 
did not represent their present contents, and some of 
the drawers had been removed altogether, showing 
gaps in the ranks which contributed to the general 
slovenly appearance. 

Below the shelves were bins and in a few of these 
were nails of several sizes, and on the opposite side 
of the store the bins had evidently been used for seed 
but were not replenished with stock for this season’s 

115 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


trade. Down one side of the store and in front of 
the nail bins ran a line of show cases, the glass of 
which was dirty as the windows and the contents of 
which, knives, scissors, revolvers and a few ancient 
novelties, were timeworn and a little rusty. 

But if the front of the store was discouraging, in 
the shadow of the rear lurked the real dragon of 
despair, for there, scattered over the floor and piled 
up indiscriminately reposed the tail ends of many 
old jobs, old unsalable lines, stoves, washing- 
machines, wheelbarrows, trouser-stretchers, coiled 
fence wire, stump-pullers, and more meaningless ma- 
terial than Tom had ever seen in one place before. 
Though the door was now open, the spiteful stove 
continued to manufacture smoke faster than the in- 
coming spring air could drive it out. Tom glanced 
at the zig-zag pipe that should have carried the 
smoke to the rear of the building and out through a 
vent over one of the rear windows. That crooked, 
aimless pipe seemed so characteristic of the whole 
place that Tom’s anger rose as he viewed it and still 
rubbed his stinging eyes. “It’s got to come down, it’s 
going to come down now!” he exclaimed. 

“Here’s dad’s overalls,” came Bud’s voice through 
the smoke at the rear of the store. 

Ii6 


THE JUNK SHOP 


“Give them to me,” and Tom’s voice had a pecul- 
iar ring. 

“Now, you. Bud, your father told me I could do 
as I pleased in this store. Dump that fire.” 

“What?” 

“Dump that fire. It’s almost April and we’re 
going to work so hard we won’t need any heat from 
that stove.” 

“Gee I” said Bud; but he dumped the fire. 

In a few minutes the stove was out in the rear 
yard cooling off and the stovepipe was rapidly com- 
ing down, the rear windows were opened and the 
smoke drew through the place and out into the street. 

“On fire?” queried an unhurried voice just below 
Tom’s elbow. Tom turned on his stepladder as he 
handed Bud another length of the offending stove- 
pipe, to see the deliberate form of Sam Swift. Sam 
was of age but his mind had lingered somewhat be- 
hind his years. He had been applying for work as 
long as he could remember doing anything so that 
it was no longer a matter of any special significance 
or interest to him, it was his one steady occupation. 
He wore his single suspender or gallus with ease and 
comfort and hitched his trousers with great regu- 
larity. He was at peace with the world and yet he 
117 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


harbored the thought that he really wanted to work, 
and it might be that with proper training and the 
growing that was taking place, though slowly, he 
might at length become a man. Tom did not see all 
this, but he had undertaken a big job and he was 
alert for help of any kind. 

“ ’Lo, Sam,” said Bud. 

“ ’Lo, Bud.” 

There was no introduction. 

“Want to work?” The voice was Tom’s. 

“Sure, that’s why I come here. Hearn tell you 
was startin’ up business here.” 

“Who told you?” 

“Don’t know zactly, everybody’s talkin’ about it.” 

“Well, I’ll be — ” Tom was at a loss for words. 
“Didn’t know it myself yet.” 

“But the town knows. Martha Acker seed you 
throw out that old stove an’ she took it thet meant 
business, so I called. I been lookin’ for a oppor- 
tunity all my life an’ opportunities like this don’t 
hang head down by the feet on every tree.” 

“Can you work?” 

“Sure.” 

“Want to learn the hardware business hard 
enough to work for small wages at the start?” 
ii8 


THE JUNK SHOP 


“Sure.” 

“Then start In right now. Four dollars a week 
and more when you’re worth it, and you get fired first 
time I catch you loafing.” 

“Go on taking down this pipe. Bud, you stay with 
him.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well,” thought Tom, “IVe made a start at no 
wages for myself in a junk heap and have had the 
nerve to hire a man, and I’m going to make good or 
bust.” 

“Wasn’t I the quick Johnny on the spot, to get 
here before the rest an’ git the job,” Sam chattered 
to Bud in a cloud of soot. “Oh, I’m the boy all 
right when It comes to landing a job! I tell you 
when it’s rainin’ duck soup, you don’t find me goin’ 
around with a fork.” 

“Better mind what you’re doin’ or the boss’ll fire 
you,” said Bud, wiping the soot out of his eyes. 

“He Is rather hard, ain’t he?” 

“Hard as nails,” said Bud. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


GETTING STARTED 


OM went to work on the dirty show-window at 



once leaving Bud and Sam cleaning up the 
dirt that resulted from removing the cylinder stove. 
“I can’t do much now, but I can make it clean, at any 
rate,” he said, as with a Stilson wrench he straight- 
ened out the gas fixtures and then removed every- 
thing else from the front show spaces. As he 
worked he kept turning over the situation, trying to 
answer the question what to do next. “There isn’t 
a complete line of anything in the whole shop and 
about the only thing I can do will be to have a rum- 
mage sale. Never heard of a hardware rummage 
sale, but that’s what it’s got to be. If I can get in 
ready money for some of this old junk, I can buy 
new stock that will sell.” As Tom worked he was 
not aware that many people who passed watched him 
curiously and that some passed and repassed with- 
out taking their eyes off that new chap from 


120 


GETTING STARTED 


the city. “I’ll have to advertise,” he said to 
himself, “and the Eagle comes out on Friday. I’ll 
call on the editor, Mr. Tuthill; guess I’ll do it 
now; better take off these overalls. No I won’t, 
the town’s going to get used to seeing me in work- 
ing clothes.” A few minutes later he was in the 
Eagle office. “Yes,” he said to the clerk, “I want 
to see Mr. Tuthill.” 

“He’s busy,” replied the clerk, who knew per- 
fectly well who Tom was and was pleased to give 
that answer to “that New York guy,” as he called 
him. 

“But I want to see him about advertising in the 

Eagler 

“Oh, wait a minute !” 

Advertising in the Eagle did not come so readily 
that one could be domineering even with a New York 
person entirely strange to Steubenville. Tom was 
shown promptly into the inner office. “Good-morn- 
ing, Mr. Tuthill.” 

“Good-morning, Mr. Stewart. I understand you 
have taken over The Lincoln Hardware Company.” 

“Why, not exactly. I’ve got a job in that place, 
but I haven’t bought it.” 

“Nobody would accuse you of buying it, but if you 
9 


121 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


take it over and make anything out of it, it ought 
to be yours, for it’s nothing now.” 

“Mr. Tuthill, I’m going to make a real hardware 
store out of that shop, and I believe in advertising. 
I’ve got very little money, but I’m going to push the 
business all I can. I’m going to start with a sort of 
hardware rummage sale, clean out all the old trash 
by offering it at what it’s worth and no more and 
then I’m going to put in clean up-to-date stock, but 
I’ve got to advertise it.” 

“That rummage sale is a good idea, but, Mr. 
Stewart, do you realize the size of the job you’ve 
taken hold of?” 

“I’ve worked for the strictest hardware boss in 
the business. Guess I know what I’m up against.” 

“Well, guess you do, and I admire your courage. 
What do you want of me?” 

“I want publicity, all I can get for the least money 
and time to pay so I can take care of your bill when 
it comes due.” 

There was not so much advertising that came un- 
solicited to the Eagle that Mr. Tuthill could afford 
to slight this customer, and there were not many on 
his books who manifested much anxiety as to the 
payment of their bills when they should come due. 


122 


GETTING STARTED 


Mr. Tuthill was interested. “Tell you what I’ll do 
as a starter. You make up a half-page ad and I’ll 
make a leading news item of your new start and 
comment editorially on your entry into Steubenville 
business. What’s more, I’ll take pay for this first ad 
in trade. I’ll find something in that old stock I can 
use. That’ll help out for the first time and after 
that you won’t find our regular rates too high for the 
service we give and I’ll let you have whatever time 
is necessary. I believe you’ll make good. You’re 
the only business man in this town that ever ad- 
mitted he believed in advertising. I’ll help you all 
I can. Now give me the main points for your Sat- 
urday sale so I can write it up. I’ll help you lay 
out that ad, too.” Mr. Tuthill was plainly interested 
and disposed to help. 

“There’s stock in that store so old it could vote 
and yet the prices are just what they were when the 
goods were new. I’m going to run ten-cent, twenty- 
five-cent, fifty-cent and dollar counters with leaders 
in all cases and not an item on the list that isn’t full 
value for the price asked. For instance, in the dollar 
list will be found ice-cream freezers formerly priced 
at four dollars, a washing-machine that sold at five 
and quite a number of the items formerly priced 
123 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


from three to five dollars. With these will be found 
lots of other goods that were not so high in price, 
but which will be marked down correspondingly. 
The same idea applies to the other lines and if the 
people respond they can have anything in the shop 
at proportionately low prices. It’s a job lot propo- 
sition. There isn’t any up-to-date stock in the store.” 

“You’ve the right idea, Mr. Stewart, and I’ll help 
boom this first sale of yours, it looks right to me, but 
you must follow this up with good live stock,” com- 
mented Mr. Tuthill. 

“Depend on me for that, this is only to be the 
beginning.” When Tom returned to The Lincoln 
Hardware Company’s store the boys had removed 
the last section of the offending stovepipe and were 
ready for further orders. These came fast enough 
to suit them or any other business men. “Line up 
every article in this store that ever sold for three 
dollars or more. Right down the center of the store. 
Start in the back and work toward the front.” 

“But, Mr. Stewart, we never do anything with that 
stock in the rear of the store,” complained Bud. 

“I don’t care what you never do, now start that 
junk out this way, quick!” 

There was no mistaking that order, and though 
124 


GETTING STARTED 


one of these helpers was older than Tom and the 
other but little younger, they were untrained and 
that marked the great difference; they took their 
orders from a man who knew what he was doing. 

In the midst of the work a shadow darkened the 
door and Tom thought for a moment it might be a 
customer and he shuddered at the prospect, for in 
this place he did not know where to find a single 
thing and, what was worse, he felt sure Bud knew 
no more about the stock than himself. However, it 
was no customer. It was Mr. Lincoln. 

“What’s all this?” he called out to the workers. 
“What’s going on here?” 

“Getting this stock ready to sell,” answered Tom 
showing a grimy face for a moment as he struggled 
out of the semi-darkness of the rear store carrying 
a folding stepladder and an ice-cream freezer, both 
of ancient date. 

“To sell? Where you going to sell ’em? Going 
to ship them out of town?” 

“No, going to sell them right here in Steuben- 
ville.” 

“It can’t be done; some of these goods have 
been here waiting for customers pretty near twenty 
years.” 


125 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“But nobody knew it — ^just you wait” 

“Oh, I’ll wait, son, and I’ll wait another twenty 
years before you clean out that stuff.” 

Here Bud stepped up to his father and whispered 
something. “So you’ve put on extra help already? 
I can’t allow that ; that’ll cost money and I told you 
I hadn’t even enough to pay you let alone another 
helper.” 

“I’m going to pay him,” and Tom thought his 
words had a bold ring as he remembered his scant 
savings. “I’m going to pay him. You gave me a 
free hand here and it’s up to me.” 

“But, Mr. Stewart, I can’t allow you to throw 
away your money here. It’s impossible to make 
anything out of this store. I’ve tried it long and 
hard. Think of Slocum & Stilwell. They’ll drive 
you out of town.” 

“Leave it to me. We’ll drive them out, maybe.” 

“Mr. Stewart, you’re a young business man; 
you’ve had good training; maybe we can do some- 
thing. I’m not much of a business man, got too 
many ideas, but maybe we can do something. I’ll 
pile in and help soon as I do a little blacksmith 
work.” 

“Couldn’t you drop the blacksmith end of the busi- 
126 


GETTING STARTED 


ness till we make a go of the hardware store?” sug- 
gested Tom. 

“I’ll think about it. I like the work but it never 
did pay. I might sell the forge; old Pop Skinner 
was dickering with me for it three years ago; he 
might be ready to buy about now. I’ll try him out 
next time we meet. I got a mule to shoe right after 
dinner.” 

All business in Steubenville stopped between 
twelve and one for the reason that all proprietors 
went home then to the main meal of the day. Tom 
went home also. 

“I’ve been hired for nothing a week and have 
taken on help at four dollars a week,” he reported 
at the dinner table. 

“You better come back with me to high school 
and learn a little arithmetic,” suggested Guy. 

“Tell us the whole story,” said Mrs. Stewart. 

“I guess we’ll have to live on my chickens for a 
while after all,” said Mary. 


CHAPTER XIX 


REMOVING AN OLD SIGN 
HEN Tom returned to his place of business 



^ he found quite a commotion going on in 
front of The Lincoln Hardware Company’s store. 
There stood a balky mule, and alongside in perspira- 
tion and despair stood its owner, and alongside of 
him in calm contemplation stood Mr. Lincoln. 

“There’s the baste, Mr. Lincoln, an’ ye can shoe 
him whin ye git ready.” 

“When he gets ready, I reckon. My shop’s in 
the rear, Mr. Murphy, if you’ll lead your horse in 
I’ll shoe him with neatness and dispatch.” 

“There’s the baste, I say, delivered to y3tir door 
an’ my responsibility ends.” 

“Your responsibility may end, Mr. Murphy, but 
mine doesn’t begin till you land your horse in my 
shop.” 

“Fergit that ‘horse’ an’ call the baste phwat it is, a 
plain mule.” 


128 


REMOVING AN OLD SIGN 


The little crowd was intensely interested in this 
controversy and much advice was freely offered to 
the participants. “Take his old shoes off, Murphy, 
he wants a new pair.’’ 

“Is she balkin’, Mr. Murphy?” 

“Ain’t he goin’ to move, Murph?” 

“Is it tied? Why don’t you let him go ?” 

“Yes, Mr. Murphy, lead it round to the forge, 
jest lead it.” 

“Why don’t you beat him?” 

“I did beat him, you idiot.” 

“You didn’t beat it hard enough.” 

“I beat him with the shovel.” 

“Wouldn’t she move?” 

“Reared up some.” 

“Beat her some more.” 

In desperation Mr. Murphy left his talk with Mr. 
Lincoln and proceeded to chastise the mule. The 
animal lifted his hind feet somewhat, his eyes had a 
curious glint in them and his ears were flattened 
against his skull. 

“There go your whiffletrees,” called Sam Swift, 
who was enjoying the spectacle. 

“He’ll use up that outfit down to the uttermost 
farthing,” commented Mr. Lincoln. 

129 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Try leading it, she may change her mind,” came 
an eager suggestion from Bud. 

“No, he won’t lead, ye phool. I was thrying that 
whin he decided he’d never move ag’in.” 

“He’s trying to read The Lincoln Hardware sign, 
but them missin’ letters bothers him. Spell it out 
fer him an’ he’ll move on,” suggested one local wit. 

“Tickle his hind laigs,” suggested the thoughtful 
Sam. 

“Tickle thim yerself,” answered Mr. Murphy. 

“I did it once last year,” said Sam, “it was an- 
other mule.” 

“Did it make him move ?” 

“Not exactly, but he made me move.” 

Mr. Murphy took the suggestion seriously and 
as he tickled the mule’s legs with his whip the crea- 
ture drew back his lips and bit viciously in his direc- 
tion but did not budge so far as his feet were con- 
cerned. 

It was new and interesting to Tom and he won- 
dered what the outcome would be. “It’s as good as 
a show,” he thought. “I wonder what they’ll try 
next.” 

“Twist her tail,” advised a patient looking little 
drug salesman from Philadelphia. 

130 


REMOVING AN OLD SIGN 


“Twist it yerself, if ye knows how,” urged Mr. 
Murphy. 

The little salesman seemed to regret that he had 
spoken, but having shown so much mule knowledge 
before so large an audience he found it difficult to 
withdraw gracefully from the white light of pub- 
licity, so rolling up the sleeve of his right arm he 
approached the rear quarters of the mule and with 
thumb and forefinger adjusted as though to pick 
a spring blossom he attempted to seize the viciously 
switching rat-tail. There was a spasmodic lifting of 
the hind quarters of the little beast and the man 
from Philadelphia staggered back among the crowd. 
The blow was a glancing one, but it was several min- 
utes before the tail-twister regained his breath and 
consciousness in Jones’s drug store, and as yet the 
mule hadn’t budged from the stand he had taken. 

Sam had another thought born of experience. 
“Build a fire under her,” he suggested. 

“Good!” came from several. 

“She’ll sure move then,” said Bud. 

Many willing hands gathered fuel till a threat- 
ening pile was thrown into place under the stubborn 
creature. It was noted and commented on that great 
caution was exercised in approaching the terminal 

131 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


end of that mule. A little kerosene helped a good 
start, and the mule began to show signs of anxiety. 
His expression seemed to indicate that someone had 
taken an unfair advantage of him and he figured 
out his next move accordingly and moved forward 
just enough to bring the wagon over the blaze, then 
he froze to the place once more. 

“Look out, Murphy!” 

“There goes your wagon!” 

“Call out the fire department !” 

Before the fire could be scattered the old dry floor- 
ing of the wagon had commenced to blaze but was 
speedily extinguished. However, one eager citizen 
had turned in a fire alarm and the chemical engine 
now appeared. The fire was out but there stood the 
mule. “Put him out!” called several who were en- 
joying the free exhibition to the full and were well 
pleased to add novelties to the show. The idea was 
well received by the department and Chief Brown, 
stationed his men at points of vantage and turned 
on a fine chemical stream. Water might have failed, 
it may have been the dilute sulphuric acid that accom- 
plished the desired end, but be that as it may, the 
mule surrendered completely and seemed to forget 
he had ever treated himself to an obstinate streak. 

132 


REMOVING AN OLD SIGN 


“I don’t think I want to shoe that mule,” said 
Mr. Lincoln. 

“But he’s got to be shod,” insisted Mr. Murphy. 

“Then I’ll lend you the forge but I won’t shoe that 
mule.” 

“But you got to.” 

“That mule o’ yours was obstinate, wasn’t he?” 

“Sure, but phwat’s that to do with it?” 

“He was obstinate but I’m determined. See the 
difference ?” 

“No, you’re two av a kind,” and Mr. Murphy 
swore to himself and then to the mule and finally 
walked down to Rosse’s corner and held an indigna- 
tion meeting all by himself for about five minutes, 
and then he came back to his mule, jumped in his 
wagon and drove home. 

“There isn’t any money in blacksmithing,” said 
Mr. Lincoln philosophically. 

“Turn your blacksmith shop into a garage, or, 
better still, cut it out and stick to hardware,” urged 
Tom. 

“No money for a garage,” said Mr. Lincoln 
slowly. 

“Sell your forge, take down your sign, and let’s 
stick to one thing.” 


133 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Mr. Stewart, you’re a business man if you are 
a youngster. I’ll think over what you say.” 

“Do you want me to show what I think of your 
running that blacksmith shop in addition to the hard- 
ware store and the farm?” 

“Certainly, go ahead.” 

Tom stepped over to the alley where the horse- 
shoeing sign hung on a pole and climbing on the 
fence alongside reached over and unhooked the 
painted horse and brought it down. “When another 
sign goes up there it’ll have an automobile painted 
on it, but that’ll be after we’ve got a first-class hard- 
ware store going full blast,” he said. 

“That settles it, Tom, I’m with you. That black- 
smith shop never did pay but I always did like shoe- 
ing a horse.” 


CHAPTER XX 


SYSTEM 


OW tell me your plan,” said Mr. Lincoln next 



morning. “Now that we’re going to run this 
hardware store, I want to help. You’ve got ideas 
from working with a good house, and though I 
was at it before you were born I’m not ashamed 
to take orders. I’d just like to succeed once be- 
fore I die.” 

“I’ve only one plan and that is to sell and then to 
keep on selling.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

“First a grand clearing out sale and then new 
stock and an up-to-date store, everything new. 
Show-windows changed every week, advertisements 
in the paper, and use all the sidewalk space we 


can. 


“But it’ll take money.” 

“It’ll take some money and lots of work. I’ve 
two hundred and fifty dollars in the bank and I’m 


135 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


sure Fort & Saxe will give us a line of credit, but 
we’ve got to work.” 

“Plenty of elbow grease and shoe polish make 
quick sales, as the apple woman said,” remarked Bud 
who had been listening attentively. 

“You put your elbow grease to work on polish- 
ing that stove,” said Tom sharply. 

“That boy o’ mine never took kindly to study or 
work, hope you can get something out o’ him. I’ve 
tried to get him interested in Latin, always have a 
copy of Virgil with me. Latin is a complete educa- 
tion. It’s done more for me than anything else,” 
and Mr. Lincoln drew a much-thumbed book from 
his pocket. “I’d like to get you interested in Latin, 
Mr. Stewart, it opens up a whole new world, helps 
you forget all about business.” 

“I don’t want to forget business just now, I want 
to remember all I ever knew about hardware at any 
rate.” 

“Very well, we’ll let Virgil wait a while, no doubt 
you’re right, but it’s wonderful what that little book 
means to me. There’s just one other thing I had 
on my mind to talk about, I hope you’re not one of 
these scientific management cranks.” 

“Don’t know much about that, wish I did. All I 
136 


SYSTEM 


know is what I learned at Fort & Saxe’s and there 
was a reason for everything they did, whether it was 
cutting down expenses or increasing sales.” 

“Glad to hear that. One of those efficiency cranks 
once wanted to try on me what he called injecting 
new life into my business. Business needed new life 
all right, but he wasn’t the man to put it there. 
There’s only one way to manage a business and that 
is to manage it. I can say that, even though I never 
did manage well. I know what’s the matter with me, 
too many irons in the fire, Latin and all that; yet 
life’s so interesting can’t keep my hands off and 
there’s a lot more things I’d like to tackle besides 
what’s bothering me now. But that crank, he says, 
‘Efficiency, mental efficiency, trains your mind. Bet 
you can’t remember the date o’ the battle of Water- 
loo. Every child ought to know that.’ ” 

“ ‘No, I can’t,’ I answered short enough, and I 
didn’t care a rap, for the fellow was so cocksure he 
was a regular Moses to lead me out of darkness into 
light, that I felt like quoting at him from Virgil. 
‘Listen,* said he, ‘you should fix that date in your 
mind. Now, how to fix it? Just follow my system. 
Now anybody can remember the twelve Apostles. 
Just add half their number to ’em. That gives you 

10 137 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


eighteen. Multiply by a hundred, there you have 
eighteen hundred. Go back again to the twelve 
Apostles, take one sixth of their number, then one 
twelfth and to that add the total number of Apostles, 
which gives you fifteen, this with the eighteen already 
obtained will give you a grand total of eighteen hun- 
dred and fifteen or the date of the battle of Water- 
loo, and in a similar way by my system you can fix 
any date in your mind.’ And he wanted to system- 
atize my store.” 

“I don’t know anything about that sort of system,” 
laughed Tom. “My system is work, keep what 
people want, right prices and advertise so they’ll 
know you’ve got what they want, and then more 
work.” 

“Well, I’ve made up my mind to work with you 
and stick to one thing for a while till we see if there 
is anything in your plan. But if you spend your 
money and put in your work and get a line of credit 
from Fort & Saxe, it’s got to be a partnership, you 
ought to have half of anything there may be in it, 
you’re taking half the risk.” 

“All right,” said Tom a little dubiously. “I’ll 
write Mr. Fort about that. If he gives us a line 
of credit, he may want to have us incorporate. He 

138 


SYSTEM 


prefers a stock-company to a partnership. I heard 
him say so.” 

“I don’t care how you fix it so long as you make 
it go.” 

When Tom got home that night he wrote two let- 
ters. One was to Mr. Fort and he explained the 
whole situation as to The Lincoln Hardware Com- 
pany. He went into details and described Slocum 
& Stilwell’s place and the stock they carried. He 
asked Mr. Fort’s advice as to what stock he should 
carry. He also asked for a line of credit and letters 
of recommendation to other wholesale hardware 
concerns in New York. The other letter was to the 
person, a Mr. Crawford, who at Tom’s suggestion 
had loaned the stone hatchet exhibition to Fort & 
Saxe, over two years ago. He begged the loan of 
the same antiques for exhibition purposes at The 
Lincoln Hardware Company’s store in Steubenville. 
He received a favorable answer to this last letter by 
the end of the week, but did not get so prompt a reply 
from Mr. Fort. 

That was a trying week, but the hard work made 
it pass rapidly enough. Friday brought out the big 
announcement in the Eagle and Saturday, the day of 
the big sale, dawned at length. 

139 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


Tom could not tell what to expect. He knew he 
was being talked about, he knew the promised sale 
was being discussed, he also knew that both the sale 
and himself were being well laughed at. “Let ’em 
laugh all they want if they only keep on talking about 
my shop,” he said. The laugh that irritated most, 
in fact the only one that really bothered him, came 
from Mr. Slocum whom he met occasionally on the 
street. “Trying to make something out of nothing, 
hey? It’s no use, Mr. Stewart, I told you there’s 
no room for another hardware man in Steubenville.” 

“What would you have me do then. I’ve tried 
for work at every store in town.” 

“That’s your business, Mr. Stewart, but another 
hardware store is impossible.” 

“Yes, Mr. Slocum, that’s my business and I’m 
going to stick to it.” 


CHAPTER XXI 

OPENING DAY 


O ATURDAY morning Tom was an early riser and 
not a store had opened, not a key had been 
turned in any commercial lock on Main Street, so 
far as he could see, when he opened the doors of 
The Lincoln Hardware Company’s store. The town 
looked hopelessly quiet and lifeless, and Tom won- 
dered if the coming day could possibly have any 
promise in it for his new venture. 

It was a gray dawn, but his old friend the song 
sparrow opened up with a cheerful note that some- 
how helped him get started. “If I lose this time. 
I’ll try again,” he said to himself as he surveyed his 
show-windows. These were piled high with mer- 
chandise, the right-hand window being devoted to 
ten-cent articles and the left to twenty-five-cent arti- 
cles. One sign read : 

ANY ARTICLE IN THIS WINDOW IOC. 


The other read : 

ANY ARTICLE IN THIS WINDOW 25c. 
I4I 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


There was hardly any article in either window that 
had not been priced formerly at twice its present 
figure. “My! what bargains they would have been 
ten years ago, but what a lot of lemons they are 
now!’’ sighed Tom. “There’s good show space on 
the sidewalk and no laws that I know of for not 
using it,” he thought, and out onto the pavement 
he carried some of the larger pieces. There were 
several old lawn mowers, a plow, three stepladders 
and a dozen single items that took up a lot of space 
in the store and which looked less in the way on the 
sidewalk. He had been at work an hour before Mr. 
Lincoln arrived. “You are the greatest hustler I 
ever ran across,” he remarked as he looked about. 
“The place never looked like this before, Tom. I 
believe we can make a go of it.” 

“That’s what we’re going to do and don’t you 
forget it!” 

“I’m so used to being a failure that I think I’ve 
got the habit. I wonder if there isn’t something in 
that?” queried Mr. Lincoln, “the habit of failing or 
the habit of succeeding.” 

“I believe you have that straight. Now Fort & 
Saxe made a success of everything they tackled. 
They had a habit of succeeding.” 

142 


OPENING DAY 


“Pm going to break my old habit right now,” 
said Mr. Lincoln smiling. “I never did like it — 
you’ve done wonders with this store. There’ll be 
a crowd here later.” 

“Wish I was sure of that. Haven’t seen a sign 
of anybody yet.” 

“They’ll be here all right. You got their curi- 
osity excited. They think you’re a freak and I’m a 
joke. There’ll be a lot that’ll come here to have a 
good laugh. Even Slocum & Stilwell have been talk- 
ing about us to everybody since you came here. 
Slocum laughed and tapped his head to one of his. 
customers. I saw it though he thought my back was 
turned, and he said: ‘Going to the big hardware 
sale Saturday?’ Oh, they’ll be here I Steubenville 
doesn’t often have a free show.” 

“Hope they come, but there’s no signs of ’em 
yet.” 

“What do you expect? It isn’t seven o’clock. 
Wait till about nine when they begin coming in from 
the hills.” 

“Do you expect anybody from out of town?” 

“Why that’s your best hold, a rummage hardware 
sale, any kind of a rummage sale will bring them in 
thick as flies ! I thought you knew what you were 

143 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


doing when you used that word in your ad and gave 
you credit for it.” 

“It sounded like a word that would describe our 
stock better than ‘junk.’ ” 

“No, it’s the one word in the whole dictionary 
that hits the farmers round here right between the 
eyes, you’ll see !” 

“Hope so. Hello, Bud, you’ll have to get here 
earlier than this, same to you, Sam. When I say 
seven I mean seven !” Tom spoke sharply. 

“It’s only ten minutes past now,” said Bud rather 
sulkily. 

“Ten minutes past won’t do. Seven o’clock or I’ll 
get men who can be here on time and I won’t speak 
about it again.” 

“I like your way of getting things done,” said Mr. 
Lincoln. “That boy. Bud, has worked harder for 
you this week than he ever did for me since he’s 
been here.” 

“This isn’t going to be any place for loafing,” re- 
plied Tom energetically. 

“Say, he’s a hard boss,” grunted Bud under his 
breath to Sam. But somehow there was the begin- 
ning of a feeling of pride both in the new boss and 
the old store. 


144 


OPENING DAY 


“He’s a driver,” admitted Sam. 

The sale was advertised to commence at ten in 
the morning and the shop was in readiness long be- 
fore that hour. Down the middle of the store ran 
a solid row of the bulkier articles which could not 
be handled well over the counters. The first half of 
the main counter to the left was a ten-cent counter and 
the second half was devoted to twenty-five-cent arti- 
cles. A temporary counter on the right of the store 
carried a collection of fifty-cent articles. Mr. Lin- 
coln and Tom were the salesmen, Bud and Sam were 
to do the lugging and wrapping, most of the cus- 
tomers would take their purchases with them, but if 
not, prompt deliveries were promised and arranged 
for. 

The greatest novelty was a cashier desk and win- 
dow, with Mary seated in state ready to make change 
promptly. “It all looks like business,” said Mr. Lin- 
coln. “Wonder why I couldn’t have done it myself, 
but I never could. Tom, you’re a wonder! I feel 
sure we’re going to make a go of it.” 

“But there hasn’t been the first sign of a cus- 
tomer,” complained the overanxious Tom. 

“Patience, Mr. Stewart,” and Mr. Lincoln pulled 
out an ancient silver watch. “It’s barely eight 

145 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


o’clock. Half the stores in town haven’t opened 
yet.” 

It was fully nine o’clock when Tom stepped to 
the front door to take one more look at his show 
windows, when he noted a farm wagon which 
stopped several doors west of his own shop. The 
driver slowly dismounted and hitched his team to the 
rail provided for that purpose. Then he returned 
to the wagon and assisted in guiding a very bulky 
woman in safety to the sidewalk. 

“There, Maria, guess we’re on time. It’s Lin- 
coln’s old place, but they’ve a new man from York 
a-runnin’ it. Don’t let on we wants to buy anythin’, 
jest drapped in to look around. Thet’s why I hitched 
up in front o’ Byrum’s. It don’t look like we was in 
no hurry to buy nothin’.” 

“You alius wuz clever, Hiram, an’ it ain’t likely 
no York sharper kin git the best o’ you.” 

“I alius knows what I wants before I goes into 
any sech place an’ I knows what I’m a-goin’ to pay 
for it, too.” 

Tom caught most of this nasal conversation and 
the final subdued remark from the lady spoken to 
as “Maria.” “Thet’s him. I know every mortal in 
this town. He looks knowin’.” 

146 



‘‘ He noted a farm wagon which stopped several doors 

west of his own shop ” 





OPENING DAY 


“They think Pm a sharper/’ and Tom smiled to 
himself. “I’ve got to make ’em believe in me and 
in the goods and in the store. I can do it, too.” 

Another country vehicle had drawn up and hitched 
to the same rail and Tom was sure there was another 
strange wagon coming down the street. He walked 
back into the store wondering who might be the first 
customer and what he would buy. A moment later 
he heard Mr. Lincoln’s hearty voice, “Hello, Hi, 
glad to see you, it’s a long drive from Hickory Tree. 
You must have gotten up before breakfast.” 

“Up with the chickens, Jethro. As the feller says, 
‘early to bed an’ early to rise, hurts a man’s hearing 
an’ ruins his eyes.’ Ha, ha, ha I” 

“You always did have a joke,” replied Mr. Lin- 
coln patiently. 

“Say, Jeth, ain’t you takin’ a chanct havin’ doin’s 
with thet York feller?” 

“No, not in the least, straight as a string and hon- 
est as the day.” 

“You watch out. I seen him, he’s up an’ cornin’.” 

“That’s what I need. Hi. I’ve been a dead one 
too long.” 

“Only one thing the matter with you, Jeth.” 

“What’s that?” 


147 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Virgil! Ha, ha, ha!” 

“Never you mind! I’d rather be poor and keep 
the little education I’ve managed to scrape together.” 

“Yep, but Latin an’ business don’t mix. Does thet 
city sharp know any Latin?” 

“Don’t think so, but don’t you call him a sharp. 
Hi, he’s a fine young man and a hustler.” 

“Well, remember I gave you a warnin’.” 

“Want him to wait on you?” 

“I ruther you would, but Maria wants to get a 
good look at him. Say, Jeth, we’ll talk prices to 
him, but when it comes to buyin’ we’ll buy from you.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE FIRST SALE 


ET this man it you can, Mr. Stewart He’s an 



old timer but he knows everybody back in the 
hills, and if you land him you’ve made a good start 
with the hill trade.” Mr. Lincoln spoke hurriedly 
and under his breath, then he introduced Tom to the 
prospective customers. “This is Mrs. Maria John- 
son and this is Mr. Hiram Johnson, old friends 
of mine.” 

“Glad to know you and hope we can be of service 
to you. If Mr. Lincoln’s friends will stand by us, 
we’ll have as good a hardware store for its size as 
there is in the State. I want Steubenville to be proud 
of us.” 

“Steubenville is a likely town, young feller, er, Mr. 
Stewart.” 

“Now never mind the ‘Mister.’ I feel as though 
I’d been here as long as anybody. I’ve had to work 
all my life and I hope the people round here are 
going to take me in as though I belonged here.” 


149 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


It was evident Tom had struck the right note, for 
Hiram turned to Maria and whispered, “He’s the 
right sort, a likely young chap,” but Maria shook 
her head dubiously. Tom caught her look. “Mrs. 
Johnson,” he said, “I hope you can find time to stop 
in and see my mother, on the north road, the old 
Southerland cottage. She’s something of an invalid, 
but she’d be glad to see you and get acquainted. 
You could cheer her up, I know. She loves the coun- 
try, we all do, and you must meet Mary, she’s play- 
ing at cashier today,” and when his back was turned 
for a minute he was conscious that Maria was whis- 
pering to Hiram. He could not hear it but she was 
saying, “A likely young feller, I wonder if he is a 
Presbyterian.” 

“We’ve got everything priced here, Mr. Johnson, 
so you can just look around and take your pick. 
First come, first served.” 

“That’s so,” and Mr. Johnson gazed at the stock 
approvingly. Then he continued, “Some ten years 
ago you people got in some firemen’s helmets fer our 
department. I accounted fer eleven o’ ’em, but as 
there wuz twelve in the lot I alius reckoned there 
must be one extry helmet a-layin’ round. I been a- 
goin’ to ask If it wuz fer sale fer several years. 

150 


THE FIRST SALE 


They sold original at four thirty-five but as they 
only cost Jethro three ninety, he buyin’ by wholesale, 
1 thought there wuz too much goin’ to profit.” 

“Are you a member of the fire department?” 
asked Tom with interest. 

“I wuz then, an’ I alius wanted one o’ them 
hats.” 

“Well, Mr. Johnson, we’ve got that hat and the 
price is one dollar and I’m glad you came in time 
to get first chance at it.” As Tom dug the desired 
article out of its hiding-place, for it had not been 
considered worthy of room in the sale, Hiram turned 
to Maria. “A likely young feller,” he whispered, “a 
mighty likely young feller, if he do come from York 
City.” 

“That’s what I wuz a-tellin’ you, Hiram, you 
alius gits your ideas from me. And what’s more. 
I’m goin’ to call on his mother, she must be lonely, 
poor soul.” 

Tom put Sam at wrapping up that helmet and 
turned in the first dollar representing the first sale 
made by the new partnership. “That was easy,” he 
thought. “Now Mr. Fort would say true salesman- 
ship commences after the customer has purchased 
what he came for.” Then turning to the case in 

151 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


hand, he said, “Mrs. Johnson, did you see the price 
we put on that washing-machine?” 

“I ain’t especial interested in washin’-machines, it 
do take more time a-settin’ them up to wash than 
doin’ the washin’ by hand, as I alius said to my 
son’s wife Mirandy, she havin’ one. But they wuz 
a meat-grinder or chopper or somethin’ thet caught 
my eye here about two years ago. It wuz three dol- 
lars, an’ I says then I’ll wait till the price gits right.” 

“It’s one of the leaders on our dollar counter. 
Here it is — in perfect working order — ^grinds three 
sizes, just as well as when the price was three 
dollars.” 

“Hiram, do look at thet meat-chopper. I reckon 
I can afford it at one dollar. Mr. Stewart here tells 
me it’s all right.” 

“Well, if he says so, go ahead an’ git it. Jethro’s 
struck it right this time. He’s got a real likely feller 
workin’ for him this time fer sure.” 

“Now, Mr. Johnson, don’t be in a hurry. I want 
you to feel at home in our store. Look around, the 
price is on everything. And Mrs. Johnson, come 
over here before you go and see Mary a minute and 
don’t forget what I say about stopping on your way 
past our house.” 

152 


i 


THE FIRST SALE 


“Mary, this is Mrs. Hiram Johnson, and she’s 
promised to call on mother,” said Tom as he led 
Mrs. Johnson up to the cashier’s desk. 

“I’ll sure stop. Miss Mary, this is my old man — 
yes, we’re goin’ to stop an’ git acquainted. Yes, we 
pass by your house twice a week, only once a week 
in winter.” 

“We’ll be very glad to have you drop in. I’m 
sure,” said Mary, “and perhaps you can tell me what 
to feed my chickens to make them lay.” 

So a pleasant country friendship was founded and 
Tom had secured the best possible advertiser for the 
hill trade. 

Customers were now coming in well enough to suit 
even Tom’s ambitious desires. Most of them were 
interested in the ten and twenty-five-cent counters, 
some stopped and made selections from the fifty-cent 
counter, but all wanted to see everything. Some had 
come to laugh, but there was a business-like air about 
the place that made laughter inappropriate. Nearly 
all managed to get a good look at Tom and many 
contrived to have a short talk with him even where 
no purchases were made. Tom did his level best, 
and Jethro, who knew everybody by name, held a 
regular reception. The cheaper articles went rapidly 

153 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


for the prices were attractive, but the larger pieces 
were called for mostly by the out-of-town or hill 
people and though they went more slowly, they were 
going. It was almost noon when Tom noted a large, 
round-faced colored man as he hesitatingly entered 
the door. He seemed in search of something but of 
two minds as to whether he had found the place he 
was looking for. 

Tom approached, for as the noon hour drew near 
his customers had thinned down to a few women, 
who were weeding out treasures from the novelty 
vantage of six years ago, and a group of farmers 
discussing the merits of a line of heavy razors such 
as their fathers had used before them. 

“I’se jes lookin’ round, sah. I’se jes lookin’ 
round. I specks I’ll see what I’se lookin’ fo’ if it’s 
heah.” 

“All right, if it’s anything in hardware we’ll be 
glad to take care of your wants.” 

“It ain’t zactly hardware, sir, kase I’se in de min- 
istry, I’se not in business.” 

“Well, perhaps if you tell me what you’re lookin’ 
for I can help you out.” 

“I scussly think yo’ has one o’ dem here or I’d 
see it layin’ round, kase dey’s tolerable showy.” 

IS4 


THE FIRST SALE 


“Maybe we got it downstairs.” Tom knew, or 
thought he knew, that everything he had was in the 
store, but he was beginning to wonder what was 
on this cautious customer’s mind. “Tell me what it 
is and if we’ve got it, it’s yours at a bargain price.” 

“I speck I bettah say what I’se lookin’ fo’ so you’ll 
know. Yo’ don’t happen to hab no second-hand pul- 
pit, does yo’ ?” 

Tom wanted to laugh, but when he considered his 
stock and the old fireman’s helmet it didn’t seem so 
funny after all. “Wait a minute,” he managed to 
say. “I’ll see how our stock of pulpits is.” He hur- 
ried to the rear of the store, to find Mr. Lincoln just 
coming in from the yard where he had taken out a 
box of goods to be delivered by wagon. “How are 
we fixed on pulpits?” asked Tom suppressing a 
laugh. 

“Well, not very strong,” replied Mr. Lincoln, “but 
there is an old Methodist pulpit I got in a trade 
when the Methodists moved into their new building.” 

“Is it for sale?” asked Tom. 

“Certainly, it’s in the shed to the north of the 
blacksmith shop.” 

“Here, Bud, you and Sam bring in that pulpit. 
Hurry!” 

155 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


‘‘Can you sell it?” queried Mr. Lincoln looking at 
Tom as at something altogether new to his experi- 
ence in life. 

“Sure!” 

“Then you can sell anything! A man who can 
sell a second-hand pulpit can — ” 

“Wait a moment. Haven’t made the sale yet.” 
Tom took a cloth and dusted off the pulpit before 
showing it to the reverend buyer. As the boys de- 
posited the clumsy piece of furniture for his inspec- 
tion, Tom remarked, “There you are, sale price 
five dollars.” 

“Dat’s jes what I’se lookin’ fo’ !” exclaimed the 
gentleman of color as he surveyed the ornate piece. 
“Jes you load dat on mah wagon an’ heah’s yo’ 
money.” 

As the pulpit bobbed down the road in the dis- 
tance Mr. Lincoln and Tom watched it from their 
front door. It was a few minutes after noon and 
all Steubenville had gone to dinner. “It’s wonder- 
ful !” said Mr. Lincoln. “Tom, you’ve made a won- 
derful start ! Who’d a thought that old junk could 
have been sold at any price?” 

“All you have to do is to let the people know 
what you’ve got and make the price right, everybody 
156 


THE FIRST SALE 


buys whether they want anything or not so long as 
it’s a bargain.” 

“Guess you’re right according to the sale we’ve 
had this morning.” 

“Just wait till we have regular stock. It’s about 
time we heard from Fort & Saxe.” 

“When I get dispirited again all I’ll have to do’ll 
be to remember we sold a ten-year-old fireman’s hel- 
met and a second-hand pulpit all in one morning, 
and at a hardware sale,” said Mr. Lincoln. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


COMPLICATIONS 


HE sale continued till late into the night, that is, 



until after ten o’clock, and as more business 
is done in Steubenville between six and ten Sat- 
urday evenings than at any other time during the 
week, Tom came in for a good share of the general 
evening trade. He had made a good start and was 
being wonderfully well advertised. The business 
continued over into the next week, in fact, the sud- 
den spirit resultant from curiosity, advertising and 
cut prices cleaned out the stock so well that there 
was practically nothing left on which to continue 
business. 

On Monday morning Mr. Crawford’s collection 
of stone hatchets arrived and Tom got busy at once. 
Mr. Lincoln trucked the two heavy cases from the 
freight station to the rear of the hardware shop. 
Tom was delighted to receive this excellent adver- 
tising matter for his show-windows, but he was 
greatly disappointed in not having heard from Mr. 


158 


COMPLICATIONS 


Fort, for he had placed great hope for his future 
success in handling his new venture in the expected 
support from that source. Knowing how prompt 
Mr. Fort was in all his business dealings, he could 
not understand the present situation, for he had re- 
ceived no word though he had written twice. 

The sale of the old stock had been so successful 
that Tom had accepted five dollars as his first week’s 
salary. Mr. Lincoln had wanted him to take more, 
but Tom had determined to draw very little for his 
personal use from their slim resources. His one 
great anxiety now was to get well started on new 
stock and for this he had counted largely on the 
support and advice of Mr. Fort. When Monday 
came and still no word, he could stand the strain 
no longer. “I’ll telegraph. I must know where I 
stand. If Mr. Fort won’t back me up, then I’ll have 
to do something else,” and so he wired his old friend, 
referring to the previous letter. 

While awaiting an answer he started in opening 
the cases containing the great collection of axes, 
hatchets, maces and stone hammers that had just 
arrived. “Not much use until we get in new stock,’^ 
he remarked to Mr. Lincoln. 

“The stock we have just been selling was so old 

159 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


they might think this exhibition of curios just a con- 
tinuation of our sale,” remarked Mr. Lincoln with 
a dry smile. 

“Yep, we got to have our new stock. I asked Mr. 
Fort to send me what his experience would suggest 
we ought to have and I can’t imagine why I’ve had 
no answer.” 

“By George I” exclaimed Mr. Lincoln, as they pro- 
ceeded with opening the cases containing the exhibi- 
tion, “I never guessed for a minute that there ever 
were or ever had been so many kinds of axes and 
hammers. That’ll be a show that will make a hit!” 

“It went all right with Fort & Saxe. I’m going 
round to the telegraph station. We ought to have 
our answer now. Next thing we do’ll be to put in 
a telephone.” 

“That’ll cost money.” 

“But it’ll earn more than it’ll cost. It’s easy to 
telephone orders, you know.” 

“That’s so, even the farmers have to have tele- 
phones these days.” 

“And we’re going after that farming trade hot 
foot. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Tom started 
for the telegraph office having some doubt as to the 
promptness of deliveries from that station. His 
i6o 


COMPLICATIONS 


route brought him in front of Slocum & Stilwell’s 
store and there stood Mr. Slocum in the doorway. 
Tom nodded to him in passing, but Mr. Slocum 
stepped out to meet him. 

“Good-morning, Mr. Slocum.” 

“Good-morning, Mr. Stewart. Well, I see you 
sold out a lot of Lincoln’s trash.” 

“Yes, we cleaned up pretty well.” 

“You’ve done well. Now’s the time to quit. It’s 
one thing to sell at giving-away prices and another 
to sell regular stock at regular prices.” 

“I know what I’m doing, Mr. Slocum. We’ll 
have clean, new, up-to-the-minute stock just as soon 
as we can get it in.” 

“Sorry for you, young man, but you’ll find I was 
right when I said there was no place for another 
hardware man in this town,” and the expression on 
Mr. Slocum’s face was not pleasant to see. 

“I think there’s room for both of us, Mr. Slocum, 
and I’m going to try my best to prove there’s room 
for The Lincoln Hardware Company.” 

“That company’s been a joke for twenty years. 
You’re in wrong, Mr. Stewart.” 

“I’m in too far, at any rate, to do anything but 
go ahead.” 

i6i 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Remember, Slocum & Stilwell are in the field, 
and if you get in our way we will run you out of 
town. We’ve had this field for quite a while and 
don’t intend to quit it.” 

“I don’t expect you to, and I hope to have no quar- 
rel with you. I’m sure there’s a place for me here 
and I’m going to try and find it. I see no reason why 
we can’t get along peacefully.” 

“We’ll get along peacefully if you keep out of the 
hardware business in this town, otherwise we’ll fight 
you to a standstill and don’t you forget it.” 

“Sorry, Mr. Slocum, but I’m going ahead,” and 
Tom cut short the unprofitable conversation by mov- 
ing on. “Guess I’m going to have trouble from that 
source,” he thought. A few minutes later he asked 
of the operator, “Any message for The Lincoln 
Hardware Company?” 

“Yes, I been waiting for a messenger: can’t get 
boys to ’tend to business these days; they’re a lazy 
lot.” 

Tom took the message. It was a day letter and 
it read: 

‘‘Your letter answered, addressed by mistake to you, 
care of Steubenville Hardware Company, all goods 
shipped last week, should have arrived. Bill of lading in 
last letter. Wish you luck.^’ 

162 


COMPLICATIONS 


Tom’s spirits rose like magic. His old friend 
was with him, the goods were actually on their way, 
in fact they should have arrived. But the letters, 
where were they? He would go to the post office 
at once and find out. No, he would stop at the 
freight office first and see if anything had arrived. 

At the freight office there was an entry of goods 
for The Steubenville Hardware Company, but the 
boy who assisted the agent could not find the goods 
in the shed. “There was a lot of it,” he explained, 
“and it was all piled up here. We didn’t know who 
to notify. It’s been here two days.” 

“Where’s the agent?” asked Tom anxiously. 

“He’s out in the yard. Here he comes !” 

Tom explained his errand. “Why, Slocum was 
here and said he guessed they must be meant for him 
as his was the only hardware store in Steubenville. 
The goods are on the trucks now, big lot of heavy 
cases — took both trucks. Slocum said he did busi- 
ness with Fort & Saxe and that he’d write them, but 
that we could leave the stuff at his place.” 

“Well, the goods are for The Lincoln Hardware 
Company,” said Tom, showing the telegram. “I 
ought to have that bill of lading, but the telegram 
explains it all right.” 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“You going to buck Slocum & Stilwell?” 

“Yep, going to get all the business I can.” 

“Wish you luck, but he’s a hard one to fight. 
Say, that was a great sale you started.” 

“Did you buy anything?” 

“Yes, I bought a pair of trouser-stretchers for 
twenty-five cents. Father bought one of those heavy 
inch-wide razors and mother picked up a hatful of 
odds and ends at the ten-cent counter.” 

“I hope all you people will keep on coming when 
I get in my new stock.” 

“Don’t you worry about that. Slocum & Stilwell 
ain’t so blamed popular that people go there because 
they want to. They go because there ain’t anywhere 
else to go.” 

“Well, I’m going to try mighty hard to please 
this town. The goods are going to be right and the 
prices right, too.” 

“That’ll get ’em and hold ’em. Now you want 
that freight to go to The Lincoln Hardware Com- 
pany, I suppose?” 

“Yes, just as soon as you can get it there.” 

“All right, it’ll be there in an hour or less.” 

“Good!” 

Tom sighed with relief that his new goods were at 
164 


COMPLICATIONS 


hand. “Now Pll go round to the post office and 
see if I can locate those letters,” he said to himself, 
and a minute later he got his answer, “Delivered to 
Slocum & Stilwell as they are the only regular hard- 
ware store in town.” 

“How were they addressed?” 

“Just Steubenville Hardware Company.” 

“Are you sure they were not addressed to me, care 
of the Steubenville Hardware Company?” 

“Can’t say, but I think not.” 

“Read this telegram; those letters were addressed 
to me, care of Steubenville Hardware Company. I 
want you to get them and deliver them to me.” 

“You better call and get them yourself. Mr. 
Slocum said he thought they were meant for him.” 

“If my name was on the envelopes you had no 
business to deliver those letters to Slocum. If you 
don’t get them and deliver them to me. I’ll report 
the matter, though I don’t want to make a fuss if it 
isn’t necessary.” 

“Oh, I’ll get them if you think a mistake has been 
made!” and the postmaster, Mr. Richtman, looked 
shrewdly after Tom as he left the office. “Slo- 
cum’s going to have trouble there,” he muttered, 
“that youngster knows what he’s about.” 

165 


CHAPTER XXIV, 


EVERYTHING NEW 


HE two truck-loads of freight headed for The 



Lincoln Hardware Company came down Main 
Street, and as they passed Slocum & StilwelFs, 
Mr. Slocum called out to the driver to stop. “Those 
goods are to be delivered here,” he explained. 

“No, the freight agent got Instructions from Mr. 
Stewart, of The Lincoln Hardware Company, to de- 
liver them there; says he ordered them.” 

“Who’s Mr. Stewart?” exclaimed Mr. Slocum 
contemptuously, “he’s a stranger, came to me for 
a job little more than a week ago. What’s The 
Lincoln Hardware Company but a joke, and you 
take your orders from Mr. Stewart, hey? I’ll show 
him he’s up against the wrong man getting in my 


way. 


“You’ll have to settle that with the freight agent. 
I got my orders,” said the driver. 

“Those goods were addressed to The Steubenville 


i66 


EVERYTHING NEW 


Hardware Company and Slocum & Stilwell’s is the 
only hardware store in town.” 

“Mr. Slocum !” The voice was that of Mr. Richt- 
man the postmaster. 

“Well, what do you want?” 

“Will you let me see those two letters addressed 
to The Steubenville Hardware Company?” 

“What do you want with them?” 

“I think they were delivered to you by mistake,” 
apologized the postmaster, “and I want to make 
sure they were meant for you. A claim has been 
made for them, and if the claimant’s name was 
on the envelope he could make trouble for both 
of us.” 

While this conversation progressed, the driver, 
without awaiting its outcome, had gone on with his 
load and signaled the driver of the other truck to do 
likewise. No doubt Mr. Slocum would have made 
a greater effort to delay the delivery of Tom’s new 
stock had it not been for the timely visit of Mr. 
Richtman. While very angry, he was still too wise 
to risk getting into a difficulty with the Post. Office 
Department or to give Tom the advantage of being 
on the right side of what might be a public contro- 
versy. 


167 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“ril show you the letters; they’re from Fort & 
Saxe, a concern I occasionally do business with, and 
as they were addressed to The Steubenville Hard- 
ware Company, and as we’re the only hardware 
concern in town worthy the name, it was entirely 
natural for me to think the letters were intended 
for us.” 

“Quite so,” agreed the postmaster, for Mr. Slo- 
cum was an important man in Steubenville and it 
was well for anybody holding public office to have 
him for a friend rather than an enemy. “Quite so, 
I never expected there would be another claimant 
for them.” 

The letters lay, sealed, on Mr. Slocum’s desk, and 
were plainly addressed to “The Steubenville Hard- 
ware Company,” and in the lower left-hand corner 
bore the name “Mr. Thomas Stewart.” 

“That’s bad,” said the postmaster. “Have you 
opened them?” 

“Why of course not;” but there was no conviction 
born of those words, and though he doubted their 
truth, the postmaster was too much of a politician 
to raise any further question, but he remarked casu- 
ally, “Wish you’d returned them sooner.” 

“Been intending to return them ever since I no- 
168 


EVERYTHING NEW 


ticed that name down in the corner. But who cares 
what that Stewart upstart thinks, anyway. He can’t 
do anything.” 

“Look here, Mr. Slocum, I’ve known you for a 
long time and I can speak to you as a friend. Don’t 
you think for a minute you’ve got an easy mark to 
deal with in that Tom Stewart. He knows what 
he wants and I miss my guess if he doesn’t get it. As 
to these letters. I’ll see he gets them, but if I were 
you and happened to know the contents, I’d never let 
on,” and with that the postmaster left. Mr. Slocum 
followed him with his eye, grumbling to himself, 
“Everybody seems to think a lot more of that kid 
than I do. However, rather than have trouble, I 
might give him a job before he gets too well started. 
Then I could discharge him later, if he didn’t behave 
himself.” 

The letters the postmaster had just recovered 
from Mr. Slocum were promptly delivered to Tom, 
who read them eagerly. They were just as satis- 
factory as he had hoped they might be and Mr. Fort 
stood back of him like the true friend he had always 
shown himself. He not only offered The Lincoln 
Hardware Company a line of credit, but offered to 
come out to Steubenville and give the situation careful 
13 169 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


inspection, and offer suggestions born of his long ex- 
perience in the hardware business. He approved of 
what Tom had already done and had sent out to him 
a pretty full line of standard hardware as well as 
a good assortment of novelties. 

Tom felt he had a real backer in Mr. Fort and 
answered him promptly, accepting his offer to make 
a call, only requesting that he would postpone doing 
so until he should have had time to arrange his new 
stock and get his store in better order. He was 
angry with Mr. Slocum for having held up his mail 
and for his interference with the freight shipment, 
but decided not to make a fuss about either matter. 
He felt that all his energy should be given to the new 
business, and that the less time and thought given 
to petty interferences such as had been practised 
against him the better for the future of his new 
concern. He was learning to think for himself, and 
all the training he had had under a good master 
when in New York was now proving of the greatest 
value to him in solving his new problem and solving 
it alone. 

The great hatchet exhibition was unpacked and 
ready for placing in the show-windows, and the big 
freight shipment of new hardware was being stacked 
170 


EVERYTHING NEW 


up in the old blacksmith shop back of the hardware 
store. This shop was now to be used as a store- 
house and the new stock was to be brought into the 
store a case at a time and carefully arranged, priced 
and tagged. 

“We’ll fix the windows first,” said Tom, “the ex- 
hibit is ready and we must get it out of the way be- 
fore we tackle the regular stock.” 

“I don’t know much about this window show of 
yours, but I do know the people of Steubenville,” 
said Mr. Lincoln. “They like anything that’s mys- 
terious. Suppose you just hang some sort o’ curtain 
in front of those windows while you’re fixing up the 
display.” 

“Good idea, we’ll keep them guessing till the 
show’s ready. Here, Sam, you and Bud measure off 
those windows. I’ll order black paper muslin enough 
to cover them halfway up and we’ll prepare our 
exhibit under cover.” 

“Say, Bud,” remarked Sam as they measured off 
the desired lengths, “he keeps us hustlin’, but he’s 
goin’ to have a sure-enough store when he gits 
through.” 

“Knows what he wants, but he’s a hard one. 
Father never made me work this way.” 

171 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Yep, but he never had no real store/’ 

“Here, Sam, run round to the store and get 
twenty-five yards black paper muslin as wide as they 
have it, and you. Bud, take this order to Slocum & 
Stilwell’s and get two gallons of spar varnish. 
Here’s the cash. They wouldn’t trust us for a cent.” 

“I thought you hated them ’cause Slocum don’t — ” 

“Never mind the talk you hear; what I want is 
varnish and they have it, now get a move on.” 

“Gee 1 he’s a hard one.” 

“I like the way you get action out of your helpers,” 
remarked Mr. Lincoln. “Do you intend keeping 
both those boys? Have we enough to do to keep 
them busy?” 

“Yes, and we’ll need more help soon, I hope.” 

“You’re the greatest youngster I ever met. What 
you going to do with that varnish you just ordered?” 

“I’m going to varnish all the side-wall cases and 
drawer-fronts and while that’s going on the wood- 
work is to be painted, the floor scrubbed, the win- 
dows polished, the ceiling kalsomined, the gas fix- 
tures polished, and a telephone connection made. 
There’ll be more things to do later, but that’ll do for 
the present.” 

“You’ll either break us or make us.” 

172 


EVERYTHING NEW 


“There’s only one thing for us that I can see, and 
that’s to go ahead. We’re in this thing to win. We 
can’t turn back, we can’t do anything but go ahead.” 

“That reminds me of Billy Herkimer’s eel.” 

“What was that?” asked Tom expectantly. 

“Why, the drain pipe in Billy Herkimer’s house 
got stopped up and they couldn’t get water through it 
no matter what they did. Billy’s father tried every- 
thing he knew, then Billy said he could clean out the 
drain pipe if his father would let him, so his father 
told him to go ahead. Billy went down to the swim- 
ming hole and fished for three days. He caught 
several small eels but, finally, he caught a great big 
eel and brought him home alive and started him 
through the drain pipe. He filled the pipe with 
water for the comfort of the eel. 

“The eel went along all right till he came to the 
obstruction, then he found he couldn’t go any far- 
ther, so he stood still an’ thought the matter out this 
way. ‘Can I back out?’ he asked himself, but it was 
easy to see that he couldn’t, so he said ‘No.’ Then 
he said, ‘Can I turn around?’ But he could see that 
he couldn’t do that either, and he answered himself, 
‘No.’ So then he says, ‘I can’t back out and I can’t 
turn around, so I got to go ahead.’ So he went ahead 

173 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


and cleaned out the drain, and I expect that’s what 
we got to do here.” 

“Good for Billy Herkimer’s eel I” exclaimed Tom. 
“We’ll go ahead, too, and clean out our drain.” 


CHAPTER XXV 


MYSTERY 

^LACK muslin covered the show-windows of The 
Lincoln Hardware Company’s store. The 
front doors were closed and bore a placard reading, 

THIS STORE CLOSED FOR REPAIRS AND IMPROVE- 
MENTS, WILL OPEN APRIL I, WITH AN EN- 
TIRELY NEW STOCK. PRICES RIGHT. 

What was going on behind that black muslin was a 
subject for the speculation of all Steubenville. 
Steubenville wanted to know. Steubenville talked 
about the matter throughout all its curves and cor- 
ners, and Martha Acker and Alicia Norton lin- 
gered around the post office in hope of further 
news. 

‘T can’t see where the money comes from to do 
all this fixin’ up,” sighed Martha. 

“You don’t think he run away with nothin’ from 
York City, do you?” asked Alicia hopefully. 

175 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“No, I don’t think thet, as I seen them ask a 
blessin’ at meals. No, it ain’t rascality, but it cer- 
tainly is strange for poor people to git money so 
sudden.” 

“Jethro never had nothin’ and never will.” 

“All you can say for the Stewarts is thet they’re 
strangers, an’ they’s some things about them we 
ain’t found out yet.” 

“It don’t seem reasonable for nobody to know 
nothin’ in Steubenville we don’t know.” 

“It won’t last long, thanks be I” 

“Here comes Hiram Johnson, mebbe he knows 
somethin’. He took a considerable shine to thet 
Stewart youngster, an’ Maria, she called on Mrs. 
Stewart and had tea an’ sody biscuits last week 
Thursday.” 

“’Lo, Hi!” said Martha as the man who had 
distinguished himself as the first customer of the 
new hardware company entered the post office. 
“How be ye, this mornin’?” 

“Right smart. Miss Acker.” 

“Thought ye had the misery in the small o’ your 
back. You was complainin’ some last week.” 

“It was these here microbes you read about that 
was a-gettin’ me last week, but I got ’em beat now, 
176 


MYSTERY 


by Heck! When Pm a-smokin’ my old corncob, 
got a nutmeg tied round my neck, an’ a few moth- 
balls in my pockets, I ain’t afraid of any old mi- 
crobe that ever flew.” 

“Oh, you, Hiram Johnson!” exclaimed Alicia. 
“Ain’t you the worst?” 

“Now, Hi,” insinuatingly suggested Martha 
Acker, “what is thet new friend o’ yourn, Tom Stew- 
art, doin’? Ain’t he the greatest?” 

“He’s a smart un all right, an’ straight, too. 
Maria saw his folks an’ they ain’t nothin’ to complain 
of there neither.” 

“Yes, Hi, I grants all thet, but where’s all this 
money cornin’ from thet he’s spendin’ so lavish on 
Jethro’s old hardware store thet never did amount 
to shucks?” 

“I don’t rightly know, but mebbe he saved his 
money to make this here start in Steubenville.” 

“Mebbe nothin’ I” indignantly exclaimed Alicia. 
“Boys don’t never save nothin’ let alone savin’ 
enough at his age to stock a store I” 

“He’s a onusual young man, as I maintained from 
the minute he sold me thet ’ere helmet, an’ Maria 
says so an’ she seen his family.” 

“You knowin’ him so well, an’ bein’ so friendly, 
177 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


why don’t you go over there now an’ see what’s goin’ 
on behind them black curtains,” suggested Martha. 

“Yes, an’ see what Jethro an’ the new man are 
doin’ so mysterious,” added Alicia. 

“Jethro ain’t doin’ much o’ it, I reckon,” said 
Hiram. 

“No, he ain’t the man he was,” sighed Martha. 

“No, he sure ain’t,” agreed Alicia mournfully. 

“It says on the door the place ain’t goin’ to open 
till April I,” said Hiram, “but I reckon there ain’t no 
sign on the rear door, so I might as well go around 
by the alley an’ see what’s goin’ on; but mind, I 
ain’t goin’ to tell you ladies what I see, ’cause you 
might fergit yerselves an’ tell it to someone else an’ 
let it leak out all over town.” 

“Never!” exclaimed Martha. 

“They’ll never git a word from me!” snapped 
Alicia. “I’m not the kind that talks free about other 
people’s business.” 

“Wall, I’ll be very careful what I find out,” said 
Hiram with a smile as he left his lady companions 
in the post office and stepped out to where his horses 
stood hitched to his farm-wagon at the curb. A few' 
moments later he appeared at the rear entrance of 
the Lincoln store. This was closed, but there was 
178 


MYSTERY 


the noise of hammers in the old blacksmith shop to 
the rear, so he stepped over, to find several very 
busy people. They were so busy, in fact, that they 
did not notice the newcomer for several moments as 
he stood contemplating their activity. Suddenly one 
of the workers raised his head. “’Lo, Hi!’* 

“’Lo, Jethro, you look busy!” 

“Can’t always go by appearances.” 

“Then it’s a danged good imitation. What you 
doing, anyhow, so blamed mysterious behind your 
black window curtains?” 

“Advertising,” answered Jethro laconically. 

“It ain’t my idea o’ advertisin’ to keep things se- 
cret.” 

“Yep, that’s right enough, but it’s our idea of ad- 
vertising to make people talk.” 

“An’ right you are there, for they’re certainly 
talkin’ fast enough.” 

“What they saying. Hi?” 

“Oh, most everythin’, all the way from nothin’ to 
somethin’, and then some ! Things that worries ’em 
most is whar ye got the money from to do all yer 
layin’ out.” 

“Think we stole it?” 

“Some does. They says neither o’ you never had 
179 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


nothing and twice nothin* don’t make somethin’, so 
whar did you git it from?” 

“Never mind where we got it, and the more they 
talk the more free advertising The Lincoln Hard- 
ware Company gets.” 

“What ye got behind that black curtain in the win- 
dows, Jethro?” 

“Just a little show, a sort of free exhibit for Steu- 
benville.” 

“Show it to me ?” 

“Sure you won’t tell?” 

“Never a soul.” 

“All right, come along and I’ll show you. It’s 
going to be advertised in the Eagle tonight.” And 
Jethro led Hiram Johnson into the store. There he 
found Bud busy varnishing the cases and a kalso- 
miner at work on the ceiling. Sam was burnishing 
the gas fixtures. The floor had been scrubbed and 
was being rubbed down preparatory to receiving a 
filler, which was to be followed with floor varnish. 
A painter was busily at work, a carpenter was en- 
gaged on shelves, bins and racks, and Tom, with 
sleeves rolled up, advanced to meet them from where 
he had been at work on the window display. “Glad 
to see you, Mr. Johnson. You were our first cus- 
i8o 


MYSTERY 


tomer and now you’re the first to get a look at what 
we’re doing. How’s the fireman’s helmet?” 

‘‘Oh, all right! I ain’t got no special use for it, 
jest wanted it, thet’s all. Say, you mind showin’ me 
thet window show o’ yourn?” 

“No, come along and look it over, it’s mostly 
hatchets of one kind and another.” 

“There’s hatchets and axes an’ thet’s about all, so 
far as I know.” 

“Well then look at this,” and Tom showed him the 
exhibit that had proved such a success in Fort & 
Saxe’s show-windows in New York. There were the 
same old stone hammers, stone tomahawks, stone 
wedges, chisels and other primitive stone implements, 
and then followed a series of ancient hammers and 
axes of copper, iron and bronze till steel appeared, 
and the wonderful Damascus blades came into ex- 
istence. 

The scimitar, mace and battle-ax, in some cases 
highly ornamented with inlaid gold and silver, fol- 
lowed in regular order until the Anglo-Saxon ax ap- 
peared, reaching its final development in the double- 
edged ax used by the lumbermen in our own north- 
ern forests. 

Hiram noted it all with eager and appreciative 

i8i 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


eyes. “Greatest exhibition I ever see !” he remarked. 
“Say, do you know I can swing an ax considerable 
myself? You ought to see me split rails.” 

Tom looked at him keenly a minute. “What’s 
your height?” he asked. 

“ ’Bout six feet four.” 

“Mr. Johnson, you look something like Abraham 
Lincoln and you have the height.” 

“Been told that before. Wish I was like him some 
other way than looks.” 

“There can’t be two Abraham Lincolns,” said 
Tom, “but you could stand in our window after this 
show is over and swing an ax. We’d fix you up to 
look like a picture of Lincoln. There isn’t another 
man in the country that could take the part as well 
as you.” 

“I wouldn’t mind doin’ it if I could really show ’em 
how I can swing an ax.” 

“Great I” exclaimed Tom with sudden inspiration, 
“We’ll have a chopping contest I” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


SATURDAY TRADE 


HERE were two announcements in the Steuben- 



ville Eagle before the final opening day, each 
telling of the grand event to come. This advertising 
may not have been necessary, for there was hardly a 
person of discerning age in the town who did not 
know all about what was going on behind those black 
curtains. However, the advertising had its effect, for 
it was also something unusual, and the whole affair 
was most extraordinary. People turned and looked 
after Tom as he passed, and many remarked, with 
thumb over shoulder, “That’s him.” 

The actual opening took place on a Saturday, a 
day chosen because of its importance as the main 
day of commerce of the week, and because the last 
evening of the week brought in the country people 
in large numbers. It was the right day to start a 
business sensation in Steubenville. 

On Saturday morning the black curtains came 


183 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


down exposing the great exhibition, and from the 
moment this took place there was an appreciative 
audience before the show-windows. 

The inside of the store fairly glistened in new var- 
nish, bright paint, and shining fixtures. The polished 
glass cases covered a carefully arranged assortment 
of cutlery and attractive novelties. Every drawer 
in every case along the wall bore its proper number 
and sample, the nail bins were full and numbered, 
farming implements ranged part way down the cen- , 
ter of the room in their racks. Everywhere the vis- : 
itors looked they found cleanliness and order. 

There were no job lots on this occasion, only new 
standard stock and novelties. Among the first came 
Hiram and Martha Johnson. They had shown a 
personal interest in the success of the new enterprise, 
and were taking every occasion to speak a good word 
for the business and its proprietors. “Ain’t it won- i 
derful, Maria, what this Tom Stewart has done here 
in a few weeks ? It did look like there wasn’t enough 
life in this old shop to furnish circulation for a mos- 
quito. Now look at it !” 

“I’m ’feared they ain’t going to be no marked- 
down goods here,” sighed Maria. “I hate to pay 
askin’-price for anythin’.” 

184 


SATURDAY TRADE 


Tom had turned from waiting on a customer to 
greet his old friends and heard the last remark. 
“Now, don’t let that worry you, Mrs. Johnson, the 
asking-price is going to be so low that you can get 
new things at prices as good as job-lot prices. Just 
look around and see for yourself.” 

“I’m mighty relieved to hear thet. I alius said, 
why couldn’t they sell at the job price to start with in- 
stead of waitin’ three or four years?” 

“You’re right, too. I don’t intend to have any 
three- or four-year-old stock.” 

“How can you help it?” asked Hiram. 

“Sell,” said Tom. 

“Suppose nobody wants it.” 

“There’s always somebody wants it. All you’ve 
I got to do is to let everybody know you have it and 
I then make the price right.” 

j “Guess you know what you’re doin’,” said Hiram, 
showing a sort of personal pride in Tom and his 
shop. 

j Tom and Mr. Lincoln and the boys were busy that 
Saturday. The store was crowded from morning till 
closing time, and while the sales were satisfactory, 

I by far the larger portion of the visitors were sight- 
! seers. Tom listened to all that was said and made 

185 


13 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


mental notes for future use. Mr. Lincoln, who 
knew everybody, was in his glory. Mary again 
served as cashier and enjoyed it greatly. It being 
Saturday, Guy had no school to attend and so offered 
his services as errand-boy. His offer was immedi- 
ately accepted and he put in the hardest day’s work 
of his life. “You’re all right as a brother,” he 
grunted during the evening rush hours, “but I 
wouldn’t like to work for you right along, you drive 
too hard.” 

“You’re a dandy errand-boy,” said Tom with a 
laugh, “if I could be so successful as an errand-boy. 
I’d never think of being a policeman or a fireman. 
All the customers like you.” 

“Ah — h!” growled Guy, who, in spite of his com- 
plaining, had done splendid and willing service. 
“Here comes your jay friend,” he remarked, as 
Hiram Johnson approached. 

“Wouldn’t your mother like to be here on this 
great occasion?” he asked Tom rather shyly. 

“She certainly would. I should have arranged for 
that,” said Tom, somewhat abashed that a compara- 
tive stranger should have made the suggestion. 

“My team’s standin’ outside, mebbe you wouldn’t 
mind me and Maria goin’ to fetch her.” 

i86 


SATURDAY TRADE 


“Thank you, that’ll be great! I’m so glad you 
thought of that.” 

Hiram Johnson started at once to find Maria and 
get his team ready. Tom turned sharply to Guy, 
who had heard this bit of conversation. “What did 
you call him?” he asked. 

“I called him your jay friend, but I take it back; 
he’s all right, if he does wear chin whiskers and look 
like Abraham Lincoln.” 

They were standing near the cashier’s desk and 
Mary overheard what was being said, so, after mak- 
ing change for a man who had just purchased a Star 
Junior hand cultivator, she turned on Guy. “Just 
because a man doesn’t dress to suit you or cut his 
hair to suit you, he’s a jay. Who are you to call peo- 
ple names, and Mr. Johnson the only one to suggest 
bringing mother here, and we all know how happy 
it’ll make her. Mr. Johnson is a real gentleman 1” 

“But he has an Angora beard, and he is a jay — 
say a gentleman jay.” 

“You run along and do your errands.” 

“You forget where you are, you’re not at home. 
Home’s a place where men do what women want 
done, but a store is a place where women do what 
men want done.” 


187 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“That’ll be all from you. You’re no man.” 

“Ah — h I” retorted Guy as he went out on another 
delivery. 

He had gone but a few minutes when Hiram and 
Maria arrived, bringing Mrs. Stewart between them. 
She was evidently improving in health, or her ap- 
parent improvement may, have been due to the excite- 
ment of the netv surroundings and her joy in her 
son’s work and her enthusiasm and confidence in any- 
thing he undertook. “Oh, Tom,” she whispered, so 
that no customer might hear, “I’m so proud of you I 
I know you’ll succeed.” 

“How can I help it, Mother, with such a backer 
as you.” 

It was the right thing to say and it was absolutely 
true. As Tom was very much employed, Hiram and 
Maria took Mrs. Stewart from one point of interest 
to another ; but Hiram invariably brought his charge 
back to the show-window where he could expatiate 
on the marked advantages of the American ax over 
that made by any other nation. “We’re exportin’ 
them to the uttermost parts o’ the earth now, and I 
can handle one myself to some extent,” he remarked, 
with a show of pride. 

“Tom tells me you’re going to help him with a 
i88 


SATURDAY TRADE 


chopping contest,” suggested Mrs. Stewart, smiling. 

“Yep, an’ it’ll be a big show, an’ thet ain’t no mis- 
take !” 

“Come, Hi, don’t you get too high an’ mighty, 
there’ll be somebody can cut through ahead o’ you 
some day I I alius said ‘pride goeth before a fall an’ 
many there be that gits took up short for talkin’ big.’ 
You’re crazy about axes, why don’t you carry one 
with you same as dudes carries canes.” 

“Yes, Hi,” remarked Mr. Lincoln, who had just 
joined the group. “Why don’t you carry an ax?” 

“Well,” said Hiram slowly, “you remember that 
old grandfather’s clock o’ ourn? She stood about 
eight foot by two wide an’ a foot an’ a half deep. 
Well, sir, I once brought it to town to have the case 
repaired, an’ I took it from the wagon on my shoul- 
der an’ started round the corner to Heinrich’s cabi- 
net shop, an’ I’ll be ding-donged if the tail end o’ it 
didn’t slap one o’ these here city salesmen stayin’ at 
the American House, right spang in the face, him 
cornin’ round the corner the other way. What you 
think he said? He said! — ha, ha I he said: ‘Why 
don’t you carry a watch?’ No, I ain’t goin’ to carry 
no ax, somebody might ask me why I didn’t carry a 
penknife.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


AN OFFER 


HERE was one direct effect of the Saturday- 



opening of The Lincoln Hardware Company 
that was a surprise to Tom. It came in the shape 
of a call early Monday morning from Mr. Slocum. 
This gentleman was in a genial frame of mind and 
his one desire seemed to be to congratulate Tom on 
the excellent start he had made. “I just dropped in 
to look around and see what you’ve done to make so 
much talk,” he said with a smile. 

“Glad to see you, Mr. Slocum,” Tom replied, try- 
ing to forget former hostile acts. 

“You’ve made great changes in this old shop in a 
mighty short time.” 

“Well, Mr. Lincoln and the rest of us just piled in 
and something had to happen.” 

“Oh, I know it’s all your work! You deserve the 
credit.” 

“That’s kind of you. I’m very glad you feel that 


190 


AN OFFER 


way about this, though we’re competitors there’s no 
reason we shouldn’t be friendly.” 

“None at all, Mr. Stewart, but why should we be 
competitors? Don’t you think we could get to- 
gether?” 

“Why, I hadn’t thought of such a thing.” 

“Now, listen to me, Mr. Stewart, you’ve made a 
start here in an old run-down store and I’ll admit 
you’ve done wonders, but the novelty will soon wear 
off and there’ll be nothing left. Trade’ll leave you 
as quick as it came. My advice to you is to stand 
from under before it’s too late. Get out and come 
with me.” 

“I don’t quite understand you,” fairly gasped 
Tom. 

“It’s plain enough. I’ll give you a job and good 
wages, better than you’ll ever earn here.” 

“And leave Mr. Lincoln?” 

“Yes. Who’s Mr. Lincoln but a ne’er-do-well; 
better tie up to somebody who knows how to suc- 
ceed.” 

“I think you’ve made a mistake, Mr. Slocum.” 

“It’s your last chance, Mr. Stewart. I offer you 
a job, good wages and my friendship.” 

“Why didn’t you do it sooner?” 

191 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE , 


“Never mind about that now, better late than 
never. Better leave Lincoln before he drags you 
down the way he does everything he touches.” 

“Mr. Lincoln is my partner and I’m proud to call 
him friend, and we’re working to make a success of 
this little business, and we’re going to do it, too. No, 
Mr. Slocum, the time for accepting your offer has 
gone by.” 

“Maybe it’s because you’ve tied up your money 
here. I could arrange for getting that back,” in- 
sisted Mr. Slocum. 

“Yes, my money’s here and my heart’s here, too, 
so let’s drop the matter.” 

“So you prefer that — that down-at-the-heel Lin- 
coln to me?” retorted Mr. Slocum losing his temper. 

“Yes, sir.” Tom was trying hard to control his 
temper. 

“Then take the consequences,” and Mr. Slocum 
stalked out of the store in quite dramatic fashion. 

“Nobody loves me,” said Tom with a grin, as the 
door closed with a bang. Turning he found himself 
face to face with Mr. Lincoln. 

“Tom,” and the older man cleared his throat. 
“Tom, I was just in back here and couldn’t help hear- 
ing. Tom Stewart, maybe you better go.” 

192 


AN OFFER 


“Why?” 

“Because what he says is true. I am a ne’er-do- 
well and Oh, Lord, maybe I might drag you down!” 

“Don’t you like my work?” 

“Tom, you’re a son to me, you’re the only man 
that ever made me think I might succeed after all. 
I’ve been an habitual failure, Tom, till you came and 
gave me new courage. But that’s why I can’t allow 
myself to be the cause of your failing.” 

“You don’t like my work?” insisted Tom, as 
though he had not heard what Mr. Lincoln was 
saying. 

“I heard what you said to Mr. Slocum and, boy, 
I love you for it, but I can’t stand in the way of your 
making good.” 

“You don’t like my work?” demanded Tom. 

“Yes! yes! yes! but — ” 

“All right, then, let’s go on and show Slocum who’s 
who in Steubenville.” 

“Thank God for you, Tom ! Now I know we shall 
succeed.” 

“Good ! I’m willing. Let’s open the door and let 
in a little fresh air,” and as he suited action to words 
Mr. Lincoln followed him with his eye, while his 
hands fumbled with a well-worn copy of Virgil. 

193 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


As Tom threw open the door in his effort to avoid 
further thanks from Mr. Lincoln, he was met by 
Hiram Johnson, who was evidently just coming in 
and very full of an important mission. “’Lo, Tom, 
just the man Lm lookin’ for, want to see Jethro, 
tool” 

“Well, he’s here, we’re all here. Now, what do 
you want?” 

“I want to talk over that wood-choppin’ bee.” 

“’Lo, Hi!” said Mr. Lincoln, stepping forward, 
“what’s your hurry? Guess you must want to win a 
prize, hey?” 

“Surest thing you know, and I want to git started. 
I can swing a ax better’n any o’ these here Steuben- 
ville dudes. I’ll show ’em!” 

“What’s your great plan? Tell us what you’ve 
laid out for us to do,” and Mr. Lincoln seated him- 
self on the recently varnished counter. 

“Each man what’s goin’ to compete brings his own 
ax an’ a log o’ wood two foot through, an’ the feller 
who cuts through first gits through soonest and gits 
the prize.” 

“Who furnishes the prize ?” 

“The Lincoln Hardware Company.” 

“What do we get out of it?” 

194 


AN OFFER 


*‘0h, you, you git advertisin’ I” 

“That’s all very well, but we got to get more than 
advertising. We got to get business out of it,” said 
Mr. Lincoln. “So I make it one of the rules that 
each man must have one of our Washington Standard 
axes.” 

“That means I got to buy a ax?” 

“Yep, and it means every other contestant has to 
buy one.” 

“Well, I hate to spend money for a ax when I ’low 
to have the best one in the State now,” complained 
Hiram. 

“But if you win you get the ax free of charge,” 
announced Tom. 

“That’s another song, an’ I enters this contest 
right now,” said the confident Hiram. 

“Then there’s something else wrong with your 
plan,” said Mr. Lincoln. “One man might bring 
maple, another oak, and some smart one would bring 
a two-foot poplar log so soft you could cut through 
it with a lead cheese knife.” 

“Thet’s so,” said Hiram. “We got to stop any 
such funny business as thet. How you goin’ to 
fix it?” 

“There are a number of good-sized maples down 

195 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


in the swamp, at the lower end of my farm, that 
ought to come out to give the smaller ones a chance. 
I’ll take regular sawmill rates for them if you and 
your chopping friends will pay.” 

“The sawmill will pay standin’ price for the trees, 
an’ I’ll see to it they gits felled an’ delivered,” 
eagerly promised Hiram. 

“Delivered where ?” queried Jethro. 

“Why — er, thet’s so. Where we goin’ to have this 
great contest, anyway?” 

“Ball grounds,” suggested Tom. 

“Good I I’ll see the timber is delivered at the ball 
grounds. The sawmill will pay you for the trees. 
Every man will buy a Washington Standard ax and 
every man will have a log to chop.” 

“Good ! Who’ll judge the contest ?” asked Jethro. 

“The man who offers the prize, and that’s Mr. 
Lincoln,” said Tom. 

“No, it had ought to be the Mayor,” insisted 
Hiram. 

“Better advertising, Tom. We’ll get the Mayor 
in it and the Common Council, unless they want to 
chop.” 

“Bet I win first prize,” said Hiram. 

“Hope you do. Remember you got to stand in 
196 


AN OFFER 


our window made up as Abraham Lincoln splitting 
rails before we start for the ball grounds,” said Tom. 

“Fll do it, but I rather forgit about that part o’ 
the program,” sighed Hiram. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


RUMOR 


HEY’S two things I can’t make out,” com- 



plained Alicia, as she kept her daily appoint- 
ment with Martha Acker at the post office. 

“Do tell,” answered the ever-listening Martha. 
“One is, what all this fuss about a wood-chopping 
contest means, and the other is Slocum’s advertise- 
ment in next Friday’s EagUy 

“But I ain’t seen next Friday’s EagUy nor yet you 
nor nobody else, today bein’ Wednesday,” exclaimed 
Martha, indignant that her friend had secured ex- 
clusive advance information. 

“Oh, well, if folks will tell me things it ain’t my 


fault!” 


“Anything special in what Slocum says in his ad- 


vertisement come Friday?” 
“Well, I should say!” 


Do tell.” 


“I hadn’t ought to. It was told to me private.” 


198 


RUMOR 


“Oh, you know me, Alicia I I ain’t never the one 
to pass on anythin’ what’s told to me private.” 

“Might as well tell you, anyway, ’cause if I wait 
till Friday then everybody’ll know, an’ ’twon’t be no 
secret to tell nobody.” 

i “Yes, thet’s my way o’ lookin’ at what news I 
hears, too. I says, it ain’t no use waitin’ till every- 
body knows what I knows before I tells it.” 

“Ain’t nobody goin’ to listen to what the whole 
I town’s got. Now I got it, by bein’ on hand at the 
right time thet Slocum & Stilwell is goin’ for The 
Lincoln Hardware Company hard. They’re adver- 

I tisin’ everythin’ they got at prices thet they think’ll 
kill thet Tom Stewart.” 

[ “Lawdy! Let me go this minit. I know some- 
i body—” 

“Now, Martha, be careful where you say you got 
the news,” warned Alicia. 

“Trust me, Alicia! My! but ain’t I in a hurry! 
i But, Alicia, thet there Tom Stewart ain’t no fool. 

' He’s eddicated, an’ smart besides.” 

Alicia stood looking after her friend. “I prom- 
ised not to tell any of The Lincoln Hardware people 
what I found out, but I do reckon the news is goin’ 
to leak out their way,” she said to herself. 

199 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


It was scarcely five minutes later that Martha 
Acker happened in at The Lincoln Hardware Com- 
pany’s door. “Afternoon, Mr. Stewart.” 

“How are you, Miss Acker?” 

“I’m tolerable, an’ I ain’t here to buy nothin’ 
neither.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Now why not buy some- 
thing? Our goods are the best and our prices are 
right,” said Tom playfully. 

“There’s where you’re wrong. The goods may 
be what you say, but the prices is high.” 

“But our prices are as low as anybody’s.” 

“They ain’t as low as anybody’s next week.” 

“But next week isn’t here yet, and I don’t know 
what other people’s prices will be then, so I won’t 
begin to worry yet,” and Tom smiled though a little 
puzzled. 

“But did you see Friday’s paper?” 

“Yes, but that doesn’t give next week’s prices. 
That was last week.” 

“No, no! One of us must be as thick as mud! 
Did you see this week’s paper?” 

“Of course not, it isn’t published yet.” 

“Sure! You’re right, I forgot. Now I’ll begin 
at the beginnin’. There was a adver-tise-ment in next 


200 


RUMOR 


Friday’s Eagle by Slocum where he puts all his prices 
so low you can’t sell no more hardware.” 

“Where did you get that ?” And Tom was serious 
enough now. 

“Never mind where I got it. It come straight 
enough, an’ he said when he got through with you 
he’d leave you on both sides o’ the street.” 

“Going to be a little rough with me, hey?” 

“Well, I’m a-tellin’ you all I know. I thought 
mebbe you’d like to know in time.” 

“Thank you, Martha, you’re a true friend. I’ll 
know what to do.” 

“I thought you would, an’ thet’s why I come so 
quick.” 

' Tom turned thoughtfully into the store. He 
could see the coming conflict clearly enough. “Going 
to cut the life out of me, going to leave me on both 
sides of the street. Sorry I’ve got to fight him; it 
isn’t necessary ; there’s room for both, but if I must 
fight. I’ll fight hard. Cut prices in next Eagle? 
Guess I’ll call on the editor.” 

The great hatchet exhibit had held the interest of 
the people for a month before the decision to re- 
move it was made, and the next exhibit was right in 
line. One window was cleared before the other in 


14 


201 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


order to stage the last of the “ax” window displays. 

An announcement of the new display in The Lin- 
coln Hardware Company’s window appeared con- 
spicuously in the Friday Eagle. Also there was a 
column on the coming log-chopping competition, with 
appropriate references to the progressive spirit 
shown by The Lincoln Hardware Company. 

There was also another advertisement in the Eagle 
by a concern which had not heretofore used its col- 
umns. It consisted of a half page devoted entirely 
to itemized lists showing former prices and the pres- 
ent cut rates at which hardware could be purchased 
of Slocum & Stilwell. It was really heart-breaking 
to Tom, for he could see at a glance that he could 
not meet the new prices and leave even a slight mar- 
gin of profit. In fact, some of the figures were less 
than his cost. He took some satisfaction from the 
appearance of his own advertisement on the half 
page opposite, which read : 

STANDARD GOODS AT FAIR PRICES, NO CUT IN 
QUALITY AND NO CUT IN PRICE. GO TO THE LIN- 
COLN HARDWARE COMPANY'S STORE IF YOU WANT 
HARDWARE. IF YOU’RE HANDY WITH AN AX, 
ENTER OUR LOG-CHOPPING CONTEST WEDNESDAY 
NEXT. 

“My ad looks all right, but it’s prices that count. 
Anyway, we’ve sold fifty-three of our Washington 
202 


RUMOR 


Standard axes. Guess we’ll have a contest all right.” 
Tom was taking what comfort he could out of the 
situation, but by the following Wednesday morning, 
the day set for the contest, he had come to a full 
realization of how hard was the situation Slocum & 
Stilwell had made for him. He also felt confident 
that his log-chopping contest was to be well attended. 

The baseball field was the chosen spot for the great 
ax-swin^ng event, and early Wednesday morning the 
maple logs from Mr. Lincoln’s wood-patch were 
ranged in two parallel lines, about twenty feet apart, 
down the center of the field. The logs were blazed 
and numbered, and every contestant had been as- 
signed his corresponding number. Four men were 
to be started at a time. On the word “Go,” the chips 
would begin to fly. A man would be stationed with 
a peavy to turn the log on request of the chopper, 
and time would be taken with a stop-watch. The 
winner in this contest would be entitled to take part 
in the semi-finals and, if successful there, would have 
a chance to compete in the finals. The prize was a 
silver cup engraved with a shield on one side and a 
pair of crossed axes on the other. The winner would 
have his name inscribed on the shield, but would have 
to hold it against all comers at the next annual con- 
203 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


test before it became his absolute property. If he 
failed to do so, the next champion chopper would 
hold it on the same terms. 

On Wednesday afternoon, there was collected 
about The Lincoln Hardware Company’s store a 
large and good-natured crowd. In the right-hand 
show-window stood a man in appearance very much 
like the familiar engravings of Abraham Lincoln. 
He stooped slightly and in his hands was an old 
frontiersman’s ax taken from the recent exhibit, and 
at his feet lay several newly split rails, such as are 
seen along many a country road. 

The show caught the fancy of the crowd, and they 
had much to say both in approval and rough humor. 
The man in the window posed as long as he could 
stand it and then laid down his exhibition ax, and 
presently appeared among his neighbors in front of 
the store. 

“Hello, Abe!” came from an onlooker. “How 
did you get all fussed up in them togs ?” 

“’Tain’t my fault. My mother made me dress this 
way,” replied Hiram, as, with a Washington Stand- 
ard ax over his shoulder, he led the procession 
toward the ball field. 


CHAPTER XXIX 

THE CONTEST 

jY^JAYOR GOODMAN opened the contest with 
a few words to the townspeople. He said: 
“These public gatherings are a good thing for a pro- 
gressive town such as Steubenville, and I’m glad to 
see so many of our citizens interested in the manly 
art of chopping wood. The enterprise shown by The 
Lincoln Hardware Company is an example that other 
of our best business men may follow to their own 
advantage and to the betterment of our town.” 

The short speech was heartily cheered, and the 
first four men eagerly took their places opposite their 
logs. 

The ball field swarmed with men, women and 
children. Everybody knew everybody else and there 
were no strangers. Even the hill people were well 
known. 

“Did you ever see the like ?” asked Martha Acker, 
under her breath, of her friend and fellow news- 
carrier, Alicia. “Here’s the old Lincoln Hardware 
205 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


Company that everybody thought dead an’ buried, 
up an’ cornin’, an’ people talkin’ about it as though 
it was somethin’ new.” 

“There’s been more to talk about in Steubenville 
account o’ thet store these last few weeks than there’s 
been in a year. I can’t figure it out. Where did the 
money come from an’ who on earth is this Tom 
Stewart?” 

“I don’t know no more about thet than nobody, 
but I suspect wherever he got it he come by it honest. 
Mrs. Stewart ain’t the kind to have brought up no 
crooks.” 

“Yes, but it is queer; Jethro never had nothin’, so 
he ain’t helpin’, and what’s worse, all this fuss ain’t 
goin’ to do them no good.” 

“I’d like to know why not.” 

“You see what Slocum & Stilwell done in the 
Eagle, They’re goin’ to sell so low that nobody 
else can’t sell nothin’.” 

“But nobody else likes Slocum & Stilwell and never 
did.” 

“Now, Martha, jest you ask yourself if you wants 
a pair o’ scissors, an’ Lincoln has ’em for twenty-five 
cents an’ you can get them at Slocum’s for twenty- 
two cents, tell me where are you goin’ to buy?” 

206 


THE CONTEST 


“I’d go to Lincoln’s.” 

“No, you’d go shoppin’ an’ buy where the price 
was right.” 

“I think I’d buy at Lincoln’s.” 

“I know you’d buy at Slocum’s.” 

“Jest to show you, I’ll buy a pair o’ scissors at 
Lincoln’s soon as this choppin’ bee is over. There 
they go I Gracious! See the chips fly!” 

“If I was goin’ to git married — an’ I might a’ been 
several times so far as opportunities go — I’d pick 
one o’ them men an’ be sure o’ wood enough to keep 
the fire goin’, if nothin’ else.” 

“Them fellers’ll chop for a prize, but them kind 
ain’t no good at choppin’ kindlin’. Give me some 
little runt thet ain’t stuck on himself for a all-round 
useful husbin’.” 

“Look, Martha!” whispered Alicia anxiously, 
“there’s a man talkin’ to Tom Stewart I ain’t seen 
before.” 

“Who can he^be, I wonder? Accordin’ to my no- 
tion, it’s one o’ his friends from Noo York, he don’t 
look to be from these parts.” 

“Let’s get a little nearer, we may hear something. 
I always did want to know where he got his money 
from for all this business.” 

207 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


So the true news center of Steubenville moved 
closer to its object. 

The contest was now well under way. At Mr. 
Lincoln’s “Go,” the chips had begun to fly, and eager 
assistants stood with peavies clutching the logs ready 
to turn at the signal. “Turn ! Turn 1” came from the 
choppers as each reached the center of his log, and 
over went the timbers, presenting a new surface to 
the contestants. It was an inspiring sight as the lean 
and eager ax-swingers cut through the hard wood in 
front of them. “Southope first!” called the Mayor, 
and while the other three of the group were but a 
few seconds behind, they were eliminated from the 
contest. There were fifteen of these preliminary 
contests, eliminating all but fifteen men for the next 
round. These also took their places and proceeded 
in the same way, till there were but four men left for 
the great final contest. Needless to say, Hiram John- 
son was one of these. 

Tom had been eagerly explaining the situation to 
the stranger at his side, and it was evident from tone 
and gesture that he was talking to an old friend 
whom he very much wished to please. 

Alicia had worked her way through the crowd till 
she stood quite close to the object of her news-gath- 
208 


THE CONTEST 


ering instinct. She heard Tom say, “Now, Mr. 
Fort, I wish you would stand with Mayor Good- 
man and judge this final round. It’s bound to be 
close, and there’ll be less question as to favoritism 
if you, who are a total stranger, will help on the 
decision.” 

“Oh, all right, Tom, if you think it will help any! 
It’s all splendid advertising, and I congratulate you 
on thinking it out.” 

“It’s not my idea, I borrowed it same as always.” 

“It’s just as good; ideas have to come from some- 
where.” 

“Notice they’re all using the Washington Standard 
ax purchased at our store?” 

“I noticed that. One of the regulations, I sup- 
pose?” and Mr. Fort smiled as a teacher might on 
an apt scholar. 

“Yep, now let me introduce you to Mayor Good- 
man.” 

There was the usual exchange of courtesies, and 
then the Mayor introduced Mr. Fort to the gathering 
as Tom’s former employer and friend, and as a 
leader of industry in the hardware line. He also in- 
formed them that he would make the final decision 
and present the first prize, the silver cup, to the win- 
209 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


ner, and an ax to each participant in the final round 
of the contest. 

Mr. Fort thanked the Mayor, and captured the 
crowd with a few well-directed pleasantries. Then 
the final round commenced. Chips flew in showers 
and Hiram, though competing against younger men, 
was holding his own splendidly. “Turn I” he yelled, 
and his assistant gave his log a twist bringing up the 
other side. The other choppers were right with him, 
but, old woodsman that he was, his greater skill 
brought him through his log a couple of strokes 
ahead of the next man. 

“Hiram Johnson I” announced Mr. Fort, who had 
watched the game as closely as a professional timer. 
“Hiram first, Lewis second, Tompkins and Jaeger tie 
for third place — all close, and the finest exhibition 
of ax work I ever saw. I hope I’ll be invited to come 
for the next contest. This time my coming was an 
accident, but I like your town and admire men who 
can handle an ax the way you’ve shown me today. I 
never saw such close work; there were only seconds 
between you. The winner will have to look to his 
laurels. Any one of a dozen here may take the prize 
away from him next year. 

“Mr. Hiram Johnson, this cup is awarded you as 
210 


THE CONTEST 


champion wood-chopper of Steubenville, and It will 
have your name engraved on the shield. If you can 
hold it against next year’s competitors it becomes 
your property. Now, Hiram, look out! 

“Messrs. Lewis, Tompkins and Jaeger, all within a 
few seconds of winning first prize, here’s a good ax for 
each of you to practice with. Get busy for next year ! 

“Now I want to say a word or two about the man 
behind this enterprise and whom I came here to visit. 

“I want to tell the citizens of Steubenville that in 
taking Mr. Tom Stewart from me, you have secured 
one of the most promising young men I ever had in 
my employ, and he thoroughly understands his busi- 
ness.” 

As Mr. Fort finished, Alicia whispered to Martha, 
“There! that explains it, there’s where the money 
comes from. Slocum ain’t goin’ to have it all his own 
way.” 

“I should hope not,” said Martha, “an’ I’m going 
to buy my scissors at Lincoln’s irregardless.” 

Hiram Johnson was shaking hands and receiving 
the congratulations of the defeated contestants who, 
on the whole, were well pleased that the prize should 
have gone to an acknowledged ax champion rather 
than to one of the other competitors. 


21 1 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


As the crowd scattered, Tom got a few minutes 
with Mr. Fort. “I was certainly surprised to look 
round and see you watching our contest.” 

“You ought not to be,” said Mr. Fort with a 
smile. “You advertised it.” 

“But not in the New York papers.” 

“Yes, but IVe been a subscriber to the Steubenville 
Eagle ever since you started in business, and I wanted 
to see this contest you’ve been advertising for the last 
two weeks, and I’ll say right here that I’ve been well 
repaid for my visit. It’s good business, Tom, very 
good business.” 

“I feel that I’ve made a good start,” replied Tom, 
“but I’m a sort of curiosity and the novelty will soon 
wear off, and then I can’t tell what will happen to 
me. I’ve spent all I had saved up and owe a lot be- 
sides, mostly to you.” 

“Never mind that, you’ve invested your money and 
invested it well. I’ll wait till it comes back to you in 
trade, and then you can pay me as you go along.” 

“But where do you come in?” 

“Why, don’t you see, I have a new and very prom- 
ising customer.” 

“Glad you look at it in that light. There is one 


212 


THE CONTEST 


serious side to my present situation and I can’t tell 
you how serious it is going to be.” 

‘‘What is it?” 

“Slocum & Stilwell have cut their prices to figures 
below my cost.” 

“We’ll look into that. They can’t buy at lower 
I figures than you, and if they sell at less than cost, they 
can’t keep it up very long.” 

“They might keep it up long enough to put me out 
of business.” 

“No, they can’t.” And there was a ring in Mr. 

I Fort’s voice that put new courage into Tom. “Don’t 
' you change a price yet on their account, and don’t you 
] sell anything but standard goods, either. I’m going 
to take a copy of the Eagle and study over that list 
of Slocum’s cut prices. You’ll hear from me. Don’t 
worry, you’ve made a splendid start. There’s only 
one thing that I advise your doing at once, and that 
is to incorporate. The cost is slight compared with 
the advantages derived. I don’t like partnerships. 
I like what I have seen of Mr. Lincoln, but incor- 
porate just the same.” 

; Mr. Fort departed on the evening train, but his 
i visit left Tom feeling the support of a strong man 
'behind him. 


CHAPTER XXX 


A WAY OUT 



HE novelty of the rummage sale had brought its 


natural result in clearing out the old stock at 
greatly reduced prices. Renovating the old store, the 
new stock, and the advertising that went with it had 
also brought satisfactory results, and the wood-chop- 
ping contest had prolonged the general interest in 
the new enterprise. It was something new, and Steu- 
benville had enjoyed and responded to the novelty 
the coming of Tom Stewart had furnished. Now, 
however, the enterprise was becoming an old story 
and would have to stand or fall on its merits. 

The days following the wood-chopping contest 
were dull days. Slocum & Stilwell had made so 
strong a bid for trade through their cut in prices, that 
The Lincoln Hardware store was a very quiet place 
so far as business was concerned. 

Tom had shipped back the great stone-ax exhibit 
and had a sporting-goods display in one window and 


214 


A WAY OUT 


an aluminum-cooking-utensil display in the other. 
His store had a snappy, up-to-date appearance, and 
on special trade-marked and standard stock, the 
prices on which had not been materially cut by Slo- 
cum & Stilwell, he was having a limited amount of 
business. But, after the fine start he had made, the 
quietness and emptiness of his store was oppressive. 
When the second week passed and almost the third 
without the least improvement, in spite of advertis- 
ing and changes in window display, Tom began to 
really feel the load and strain of his new enterprise. 
So long as he was busy doing something he could 
stand the hardest conditions bravely, but waiting, 
waiting, waiting, and not being sure what to do next 
he found to be beyond endurance. He became rest- 
less and worried, and the fact that he kept his 
troubles away from his folks at home did not help 
him. “WeVe got lo do something,” he said to Mr. 
Lincoln toward the end of the third week of waiting. 
‘T can’t stand this any longer. Slocum’s getting all 
the trade.” 

“Now, Tom, be patient. I’m not the business man 
you are, but I do know this, our stock is all high 
grade and we can stand back of it, and our prices are 
fair. That ought to mean business in the long run.” 

215 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Yes, but if Slocum offers the same goods at less 
money, what chance do we have to sell?” 

“But he’s not offering the same goods at less 
money. What he’s cutting prices on is mighty cheap 
stuff and it’ll spoil him if he sells enough of it.” 

“Are you sure of that?” 

“Certainly. Martha Acker bought a cheap pair 
of scissors there; they might as well have been 
made out of lead. She complained to me about 
it. She said she thought she was saving money 
when she got them. She took them back, but the 
only answer she got was that they didn’t guarantee 
the cut-price stock. All they got to do is to sell 
enough of it.” 

Tom took what consolation he could get from this 
conversation, but the fact remained that very little 
trade was coming to The Lincoln Hardware Com- 
pany’s store. When two more weeks went by with- 
out change Tom became desperate. He thought of 
writing to Mr. Fort and asking his advice, and this 
would have been a wise thing to have done, but he 
had become quite self-confident and thought it was 
his place to handle the situation himself. It was 
during one of his fits of depression that the repre- 
sentative of Snare &Tobey, wholesale hardware job- 
216 


A WAY OUT 


bers, called. Tom was in the front of the store when 
the well-dressed stranger entered. He was a man of 
indefinite middle age, very well groomed and rather 
overdressed, with too great a sprinkling of jewelry 
and badges of secret societies. 

“This Mr. Stewart?’’ asked the stranger, and at 
Tom’s nod he continued, “I’m Bagby, Bagby of 
Snare & Tobey. Guess you know us by reputation, 
everybody in the hardware line knows Snare & 
Tobey.” 

“Yes, I’ve heard of your house, Mr. Bagby, but 
I’m more interested right now in trying to sell what 
I’ve got than in buying new stock.” 

“Of course you know your own business better 
than I do, but isn’t it possible that you haven’t got 
the right line?” 

“Look around,” said Tom with some show of 
pride. “Guess if you know hardware, you’ll recog- 
nize the trade-marks.” 

“All high-priced goods. I sized up the place the 
minute I got inside the door. Splendid stock, stand- 
ard lines and all that, but too good for the custom- 
ers. What they want is price, price, price I” 

“Shouldn’t wonder but that you’re right,” an- 
swered Tom listlessly. 


15 


217 


. MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Now, see here, Mr. Stewart, I didn’t call on you 
today for the fun of it. I want to talk business.” 

“Might as well save your time and mine, for I’m 
not buying,” replied Tom a little impatiently. 

“It may interest you to know that I’m selling Slo- 
cum & Stilwell the line that enables them to cut prices 
’way down and still make good money on every sale.” 

“You sell Slocum & Stilwell?” 

“Sure, and it’s our cheap line that brings the busi- 
ness to his store ; the price catches ’em. Once in the 
store, he sells ’em our goods and high-priced stock, 
too, but our cheap line is the bait that catches ’em.” 

“But Slocum & Stilwell advertise a cut in all prices 
on their regular stock.” 

“Oh, that’s only advertising! What they really 
sell at the cut prices is our cheap line, and it’s pretty 
good for the money, too. Here, look over our list, 
everything in cutlery, razors, knives, scissors, carpen- 
ters’ tools, plumbers’ tools, auto-repair tools, kitchen 
utensils and novelties, from watches to fountain pens, 
some big pieces, too — a full line of farmers’ tools — 
can you beat it? Look at the prices.” 

“Are you sure this is what Slocum & Stilwell are 
selling?” 

“Don’t take my word for it, you don’t have to,” 
218 


A WAY OUT 


and to Tom’s surprise Mr. Bagby spread before Tom 
signed orders from Slocum & Stilwell. 

Tom didn’t like the man or his methods, but it 
looked like the solution to his problem. This line 
would at least put him on a par with Slocum & Stil- 
well, it was a case of fighting fire with fire, and it 
would mean the salvation of The Lincoln Hardware 
Company. He knew that with even prices he could 
get a good share of the Steubenville trade. What 
Slocum had done he could do. There were some 
things about this call from the representative of 
Snare & Tobey that Tom did not quite understand, 
so he questioned Mr. Bagby further. “Had a sat- 
isfactory trade with Slocum & Stilwell?” 

“Certainly. You ought to know that better than 
anyone else. They’ve scooped all the trade. I just 
showed you the kind of orders they’ve been placing.” 

“Then why are you coming to The Lincoln Hard- 
ware Company if the Slocum orders are coming in all 
right ?” 

‘It’s just a matter of business. Slocum & Stilwell 
can’t sell everybody. My house would rather have 
two customers than one, and, naturally, I want to 
make every sale I can.” 

“Then why didn’t you come sooner?” 

219 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Now, see here, Mr. Stewart, I’ve done business 
with Slocum & Stilwell for years, and it was perfectly 
natural I should take this new line to them first. Be- 
fore you make a decision come over to the American 
House and look over my sample line. It’s all laid 
out for your inspection.” 

“Well—” 

“Come over and take dinner with me.” 

“Not from what I know of the American House, 
but I will come right after I get back from lunch. 
Call it one o’clock.” 

“All right. I’ll be there, and I’ll guarantee to make 
your call worth while.” 

Tom turned the matter over very carefully on his 
way home to lunch. He didn’t like the salesman, he 
didn’t like the cheap line of goods, and he couldn’t 
believe he had been given the real reason why Mr. 
Bagby, of Snare & Tobey, had made him a call. 

“It’ll give me a line to buck Slocum & Stilwell with, 
and that will be some satisfaction after letting them 
have their own way all this time.” But Tom was 
silent at that mid-day meal and anxious to get away 
from the kindly scrutiny of his mother’s eyes. 


CHAPTER XXXI 

THE NEW LINE 


jYJR. BAGBY, of Snare & Tobey, met Tom in the 
lobby of the American House. “Come right 
up to the sample-room and I’ll show you a list of 
money-makers that will open your eyes.” 

“All right, show me the way,” and Tom followed 
the salesman up the winding stairway. 

It was an attractive display from several points 
of view. First and always there was the price, low 
enough for successful competition with Slocum & 
Stilwell. In the second place, the cases in which the 
goods were packed, in size and color and style cor- 
responded very closely in appearance to the pack- 
ages in which well-advertised and standard goods 
were sold. Thirdly, the goods themselves were very 
presentable, so much so that Tom wondered how 
there could be so great a difference in price. 

“It’s price that sells goods nowadays,” said Mr. 
Bagby, “and this line is just as good as lots of hard- 
ware that’s sold for a great sight more.” 


221 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“How about these tools, will they hold the edge?” 

“Sure — plenty long enough, anyway. You don’t 
want them to last forever or you’d never sell any 
more of them. They’re plenty good enough and 
they look like standard tools. What’s more, they 
sell.” 

As Mr. Bagby finished, a waiter entered the sam- 
ple-room bearing a tray on which were two long- 
stemmed glasses and a bottle. There was also a box 
of cigars. “Help yourself,” said Mr. Bagby. 

“No, thanks, I don’t drink.” 

“Well, have a smoke, anyway.” 

“No, kind of you, Mr. Bagby, but let’s get down 
to business.” 

“That suits me. Do you know, Mr. Stewart, I 
don’t like this treating business any better than you 
do, but most of my customers expect it, so I have to 
make the offer. It costs the firm good money, too.” 

“It seems like poor business to me. I know Fort 
& Saxe would never stand for it from their sales- 
men.” 

“Yes, but they have a well-established line of 
standard goods, while I’m introducing a new, un- 
known line. Were you with Fort & Saxe ?” 

“Yes, that’s where I learned the business.” 


222 


THE NEW LINE 


“Well, then, I can’t tell you anything about qual- 
ity stuff, but for a cl^ap line at a price, you can’t beat 
the goods I’m shying you.” Mr. Bagby’s air of 
frankness seemecy genuine, but Tom would have liked 
him better if he/had left the liquor alone. 

“Do you stand back of these goods in any way?” 

“The house always makes it right if anything goes 
wrong, but we don’t give a written guarantee. It’s 
all fast-selling stock, with low prices and a good mar- 
gin of profit. What more can you ask?” 

“How soon could you make deliveries?” 

“About ten days or two weeks,” answered Mr. 
Bagby, getting out his order book and pencil. 

“Couldn’t you do better than that? Can’t you 
make it one week?” 

“I’ll take it up with the house. Maybe we could 
rush your order in ahead of some others. I’ll prom- 
ise to do my best.” 

Tom took a copy of the last issue of the Steuben- 
ville Eagle out of his pocket and gave his order. 
He ordered everything that Slocum & Stilwell were 
advertising, and then made a good selection of his 
own. Comfortable terms were arranged for, and 
Tom left the American House feeling that he had 
made good headway against the competition that was 
223 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


slowly strangling his business. He went immediately 
to his store where he met Mr. Lincoln, who, appar- 
ently, had important news to communicate. “Tom, 
we’re a corporation; just received a copy of our cer- 
tificate of incorporation.” 

“Good ! and I’ve just bought a line that will give 
us something to sell. We can compete with Slocum 
& Stilwell,” and Tom told of his purchase in detail. 

“Well, Tom, you know best, but I can’t say I have 
much confidence in cheap goods. I’ve heard some 
complaining about the goods Slocum is selling. 
However, you’re a better business man than I am, 
and I’ll have to trust to your judgment.” 

“I hate cheap goods as much as anyone. We 
never sold anything we couldn’t stand back of at 
Fort & Saxe’s. But what are we going to do? Slo- 
cum is busy selling this cheap line and we’re standing 
still.” 

“Slocum has certainly beaten us for the present, 
but I do hate tawdry hardware,” sai^Mr. Lincoln 
emphatically. 

Tom went home that evening in two minds. He 
felt he had done his best to save the situation, but 
hated the way in which he had done it, for, after 
all, he knew very well the line he had just bought 
224 


THE NEW LINE 


was not such as a first-class concern could stand back 
of. It was cheap, and nearly every article and every 
package was in imitation of well-known and standard 
lines. Try as he would, he could not get it out of 
his mind that he was buying stock that was not what 
it pretended to be. 

Arrived at his gate he was met, as usual, by the 
friendly bark of Nap, who had now become as good 
a village dog as he had been a city resident; but 
Tom’s response was half-hearted, and at the sup- 
per-table it was apparent that he was troubled in 
mind. 

“What’s biting you?” asked Guy unsympathetic- 
ally. “You got an eight-day grouch.” 

“Be quiet, Guy. Tom has a great deal to think of 
these days,” said Mrs. Stewart. 

“Tom needs another special sale to make him 
happy, and I’ll be cashier again,” said Mary. 

“I certainly need some sort of a sale,” replied 
Tom, “and I think I’ve prepared the way for one 
today.” 

“That sounds good,” said Mrs. Stewart. “I know 
you’ve been worried lately, and while I’m sure you’ll 
win out in the end, I know it must be hard to be 
patient.” 


225 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“It’s all that Slocum’s fault, he wants to hog 
all the business in town,” growled Guy fiercely. “I’d 
like to break his head.” 

“Don’t do anything rash that’ll disgrace our fam- 
ily name,” urged Mary. 

“Ah— hi” said Guy. 

“Tell me more about your new plans,” said Mrs. 
Stewart. “It may help you to talk things over.” 

So Tom told of the new cheap line. He told of it 
as something absolutely necessary to do to save the 
business situation, but he could not conceal from his 
mother that the whole transaction was distasteful, 
and that his mind was sadly divided as to the ques- 
tion of right and wrong involved. “It means I’ll be 
able to compete with Slocum & Stilwell on even terms. 
It means he can’t drive me out of business.” 

“But Slocum & Stilwell advertise their goods as 
though they were their regular standard brands only 
with a reduction in price.” 

“One thing I know, and that is, they’ve scooped 
all the trade, and The Lincoln Hardware Company 
is standing still.” 

“Tom,” said his mother, with something of a 
change in her voice, “when will this new line of goods 
arrive ?” 


226 


THE NEW LINE 


“I suppose in a couple of weeks; the salesman 
seemed to think he could do better, but I don’t be- 
lieve the new stock will get there any sooner than 
that. Why do you ask?” 

“Tom, you’ve been working very hard and wor- 
rying more than is necessary. You have lost your 
poise, you need a vacation. A few days of complete 
change and you could see things more nearly as they 
are. As it is you can’t see straight.” 

“You mean you don’t like the looks of this new 
cheap line I’m putting in. It’s all very nice to sell 
•only the best, but I’ve got to sell what people will 
buy. The store has got to pay.” 

“I’m not at all worried about the store, but I want 
you to do as I say and get away for a few days.” 

“I can’t leave things now. I’m too busy.” 

“No, you’re not busy enough; now’s your time, be- 
fore the new stock arrives.” 

“Well, I’ll talk it over with Mr. Lincoln.” 

“If you’ll do that I’ll be satisfied. Promise me 
to talk it over with him tomorrow.” 

“I promise.” 


CHAPTER XXXII 

OFF TO THE HILLS 


^ I ^OM was hard at work, as usual, when Mr. Lin- 
coln arrived the morning following his con- 
versation with his mother and, true to his promise, 
Tom brought up the question of a vacation. “I 
don’t need one, and I don’t want to go off and play 
now. I want to work harder than ever and win 
this fight against Slocum & Stilwell.” 

“Now, Tom, look here, we haven’t any quarrel 
with Slocum & Stilwell.” 

“I’d like to know what you call it?” 

“Slocum is having a little run on a cheap line, and 
if it makes us rather quiet for the time it takes the 
people to learn that cheap stock isn’t cheap in the 
end. We’ll have to be patient, that’s all.” 

“But don’t you see he’s driving us out of busi- 
ness ?” 

“No, that’s what he says he’s doing, and that’s 
what he wants you to think he’s doing and, 
228 


OFF TO THE HILLS 


Tom, you’re doing just what he wants you to do.” 

“He’s brought our business to a standstill, that’s 
one thing I know.” 

“Oh, not so bad as that! We’re selling some 
standard goods right along, and we don’t have to 
apologize for what we sell either.” 

“All I can see is, that we’re in a fight to the finish 
with Slocum & Stilwell, and I’m going to fight to 
the last ditch.” 

“What were you saying about a vacation?” 

“I was saying I didn’t need one, but that I prom- 
ised mother to talk it over with you.” 

“What did she say about it?” 

“Oh, she thinks I ought to take a few days off!” 

“Why did she think you needed a rest?” asked 
Mr. Lincoln keenly. 

“She doesn’t understand the situation I’m up 
against, and how necessary it is for me to be here. 
She thinks I could go away till the new stock ar- 
rives,” answered Tom evading the question. 

“But why did she think you needed a change right 
now?” persisted Mr. Lincoln. 

“Why, she thinks, that is, she says, I can’t see 
straight, and if I ran away from the store for a while 
she thinks I would be able to see things differently.” 

229 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“So do I,” said Mr. Lincoln emphatically. “You 
pack up and get out of here, and don’t you dare to 
show yourself in this place again for two whole 
weeks. You’ve been an asset up to now, but until 
you’ve had a change of air you’re a liability of the 
worst kind.” Mr. Lincoln rose, put both hands on 
Tom’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Tom, 
get off into the hills. An old friend of yours will 
call at your house at two o’clock tomorrow after- 
noon. Have an old suit on your back ; take a sweater 
along, and underclothes for two weeks. Now God 
bless you, son, and don’t think of this shop till I 
see you again. Just play. It’s necessary for the 
future of this business that you play for two weeks.” 

“I don’t quite understand what you’re up to, but 
I thank you just the same,” said Tom, who was be- 
ginning to feel that Mr. Lincoln was the kind of 
man that one would like for a father. 

When Tom came home and laughingly explained 
how Mr. Lincoln had fired him bodily out of the 
store, and that he was to await the appearance on 
the morrow, precisely at two in the afternoon, of a 
mysterious stranger, Mrs. Stewart smiled happily. 
“I always did like Mr. Lincoln,” she said. “He 
may not be smart when it comes to making money 
230 


OFF TO THE HILLS 


in a small store, but he does understand some 
things.” 

Tom didn’t know whom to look for or what to ex- 
pect, as he sat on the front porch the following after- 
noon awaiting the fateful hour of two. The fact 
was that he was mentally tired, somewhat depressed, 
and a little discouraged. For the first time in a long 
while, he was taking orders from some one else, and 
as he relaxed he began to realize that he had been 
at high tension, and for the moment he was in a 
state of mind where he didn’t seem to care much 
what happened next. As he waited, Sam came down 
the street and turned in at the gate. He was carrying 
a bundle on his shoulders which was bulky rather 
than heavy. “It’s from Mr. Lincoln — he told me to 
tell you not to open it till you got there.” 

“Got where ?” 

“I don’t know, that’s all he said. I supposed you’d 
know what he meant.” 

“Tell him I won’t, and thank him for me.” 

“All right.” And Sam sauntered off in the direc- 
tion of the store. 

“More mystery I Hello, Nap I What you smell- 
ing that bundle for, think it’s for you?” 

Nap wagged his tail, and looked up at his master 
231 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


with brown eyes that always held a question and 
complete devotion. 

“Nap, do you think I need a vacation?’^ 

Nap answered the question by running around the 
house three times, and then appearing with a very 
ancient and very dry bone in his teeth which he 
dropped ceremoniously at his master’s feet. “That 
settles it. I need one and I’m going to have one. 
Well, I declare, if here isn’t Hiram Johnson a day 
ahead of his regular time I Hello, Mr. Johnson, 
glad to see you !” 

Tom rose and went down to the gate as Hiram 
Johnson brought his team to a standstill. 

“Jump aboard, young man. It’s jest two o’clock, 
an’ I can’t wait.” 

“What’s the joke?” asked Tom, surprised in spite 
of himself. 

“No time to explain now. I got my orders and 
you get aboard.” 

“Well, I seem to be taking orders from everybody 
I meet these days. Guess I better do as I’m told,” 
and Tom laughed. “I’ll just say good-by to the 
folks.^’ 

But it wasn’t necessary for him to re-enter the 
house, for Mrs. Stewart, Mary and Guy came to the 
232 


OFF TO THE HILLS 


door, as if by appointment, and wished him good-by 
and a good time. 

“Don’t come back here for two weeks,” said his 
mother, “and be sure you have plenty of clothes on 
you at night.” 

“What a yarn we’ll have to listen to when he re- 
turns,” said Guy. 

“I’ll go with you next time,” said Mary. 

“What’s it all about?” asked Tom, after the little 
white house had disappeared around a curve in the 
road. 

“Well, Mr. Tom Stewart, you’re on a vacation, 
an’ it’s up to me to see you have a good time. An^ 
by Heck, I’m a-goin’ to see that you do I” 

“Suits me.” 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


THE HILLS 

house was low and white, and its many wings 
sprawled among a number of old pine trees ; 
as though it were on friendly terms with them all ’ 
and had no thought of displacing them for any mere ‘ 
architectural reason. To the rear of the house were • 
several large red barns and in the barnyard were ; 
corncribs and in the adjacent fields were great hay- 
ricks. Chicken houses and tool sheds held their j 
places in among the larger buildings, and taken ] 
altogether, there was a quiet air of prosperity i 
and comfort about the place which appealed ^ 
strongly to the tired young business man, as Hiram *| 
Johnson drove him past the house and into the barn- ^ 
yard. {! 

“Hello, Mr. Stewart!” came the pleasant voice of 
Mrs. Maria Johnson. “So you an’ Hiram is goin’ l 
campin’ 1” | 

“First I heard of it, but it sounds good to me.”| 

234 


THE HILLS 


“Wall, now, Maria, if you ain’t gone an’ give it 
all away,” complained Hiram. 

“Why, don’t he know where he’s goin’ ?” 

“Not yet. It was a secret.” 

“Well, I declare I” 

“I’ll enjoy it just as much. Say, it’ll be great! 
I’ve never been camping in my life.” And Tom felt 
a thrill of pleasure of a different kind from any he 
had previously known. 

“Wall, Hiram can show you all there is to it. 
He’s been wastin’ his time that way since he was 
knee high to nothin’ at all.” 

“You’ll have to tell me everything, Hiram, for I 
don’t know the first thing about camping.” 

“All right, Tom. First thing is to go in an’ wash 
up for supper. The next is to get up right early 
tomorrow mornin’. I’ll call you. Here, give me 
that bundle. It’s part o’ our outfit.” And Hiram 
secured control of the package, which was Mr. Lin- 
coln’s parting gift to Tom. 

The hired man now arrived on the scene and 
helped Hiram unhitch, while Tom went into the 
house with Mrs. Johnson. It was a blue-walled, low- 
ceilinged room that she led Tom to, and the liberal 
bed had a persuasive look that urged early retiring, 

235 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


and Tom thought would be very hard to get out of 
in the gray of the morning. It was all part of a 
complete farm home, and the rich cream and the 
sun-cooked strawberry jam served at the supper-table 
told the rest of the story — of a place where the liv- 
ing was wholesome from work to play, and from 
one year’s end to the other. 

It seemed to Tom that he had hardly lain down 
before some one was lustily calling him to get up. 
He didn’t want to move. It seemed to him that he 
would rather stay right where he was for a week 
than turn to any other pleasure or employment on 
earth, but here he was a guest, so he compelled him- 
self to get up and come down to breakfast. 

“Strawberries and cream to start with,” said 
Hiram. “An’ if you can beat Maria’s coffee an’ sody 
biscuits. I’ll give up right now. That there bacon 
is our own make, an’ them eggs is so fresh it’s like 
cruelty to children to cook ’em at all. Right out o’ 
the nest, an’ all hand-laid, as the feller said.” 

“Looks good, smells good and is good, and I’m 
hungry,” said Tom. 

“Set down, Mr. Stewart.” 

“Please call me Tom. I want to feel at home 
here.” 


236 


THE HILLS 


“All right, Tom. That sounds kind o’ more natu- 
ral than any Mister.” 

“I like it better. By the way, Hiram, where are 
you going to take me?” 

“That’s tellin’ ! I was once a lumber jack for as 
long as I could stand it. That’s where I learned to 
swing a ax so as to win a prize, an’ I learned a little 
how to handle a canoe, an’ a lot how to be crazy to 
live out o’ doors.” 

The early breakfast over, Hiram led Tom to the 
horse-block at the rear of the house, and from this 
they climbed into the front seat of a two-seated 
wagon, to which was harnessed a good-looking pair 
of ponies. T he hired man took the rear seat. 

“Good-by, Maria, see you again in two weeks. 
Be home in time for church Sunday after next.” 

“Good-by, Hiram, be keerful in that canoe. 
Good-by, Tom, don’t let him work you too hard.” 

“Good-by, Mrs. Johnson, it won’t be work, it’ll be 
all play.” 

A click of the tongue and the ponies were ofE at a 
good gait. 

On the bottom of the wagon Tom noticed two 
large brown canvas bags, the mouths of which were 
drawn together with stout cords. They were as large 

237 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


as the regulation canvas mail-bags, but to Tom were 
decidedly more interesting. “What you got in those 
bags?” he asked. 

“Them bags contains what we’re to live on fer 
two whole weeks, food, covering at night an’ housin’, 
by which I means a tent.” 

“Where are we going?” 

“Into the hills.” 

“Well, I don’t care where it is so long as it’s out- 
doors and I’m one of the party.” 

It was a long dusty ride, and they stopped at noon 
to rest and care for the ponies as well as to have 
their own luncheon. This Mrs. Johnson had pre- 
pared, and the hungry men pronounced it a success. 
The meal finished they were not long in getting a 
new start, but the shadows of the trees were length- 
ening before they finally drew rein. This was largely 
because they could go no farther. They were now 
in the hill forests and the road had long since dwin- 
dled to a mere trail, and it finally lost itself altogether 
among the shadowy tree trunks. It was in a little 
clearing on the bank of a small river that their first 
night was spent. Here was a roughly built shack 
about twenty by fifteen feet as to floor space. It con- 
tained a rusty stove, several bunks along the wall, a 
238 


THE HILLS 


table, some chairs and a long bench. Frying-pans 
hung back of the stove, and a simple assortment of 
cooking utensils and tableware rested on a shelf. 
There were plenty of blankets on the racks overhead, 
but the most interesting item in the whole list was the 
one Tom saw first. It was so large that it had to be 
taken out of the shack before anybody could get in 
comfortably, for it was much in the way. It was 
the canoe. 

“We’ll have somethin’ light an’ tasty before re- 
tirin’,” said Hiram. 

“I could eat dried lizards,” said Tom. 

“Jest you wait, then, an’ see who’s cook around 
these parts.” 

While Hiram made the fire and opened one of the 
big brown bags, the hired man picketed the ponies 
and got ready for an early morning start for home. 
Tom explored the river bank and the‘ clearing about 
the shack as well as he could in the failing light. 
When he returned the mingled fragrance of frying 
ham, eggs and coffee made its immediate appeal to 
Tom’s inner man. 

“Smells good,” he said, “but that sort of food 
isn’t considered the best possible to take just before 
going to bed.” 


239 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Thet’s why I like camping you can fergit all the 
old rules that applies to people livin’ at home.” 

“I don’t believe coffee or anything else will keep 
me awake tonight.” Tom was right, for he slept 
like a log, and so, for that matter, did Hiram, and it 
was broad daylight when they at length awoke. The 
hired man had gone with the ponies and wagon. 

“Glad he didn’t wait for us. I told him to be here 
Thursday mornin’, week after next, so we got to 
keep track o’ the time an’ not lose a day or two in 
our calculations.” 

“Guess we can do that easy enough.” 

“Don’t you be too sure. I’ve lost a day or two 
many a time out in the woods. I been extry good 
some days, a-thinkin’ ’em Sundays, an’ come to 
reckon up afterward found out it’d been a Monday 
or Tuesday, an’ no special call to be good whatever.” 

“Awful waste,” commented Tom. 

“Yep; but next thing is breakfast. What’ll you 
have ?” 

“Any ham and eggs left from supper?” 

“I kin give you thet if you like, but we don’t want 
too much of the same thing, even if it’s good.” 

“Well, I’d like a little ham, anyway.” 

“An’ a few fresh eggs would seem all right.” 

240 


THE HILLS 


“And some coifee.” 

“Yep, so let’s call it eggs an’ coffee an’ ham for a 
change.” 

“Suits me.” 

“So be it.” 

The breakfast was just as satisfactory as the even- 
ing meal had been, and in a very short time the two 
campers stood on the shore of the river with their 
canoe at their feet and paddles in their hands. The 
two large brown bags were carefully placed, and the 
shack behind them was closed up and ready for when 
they should return. 

“Tom, you don’t know anything about a canoe, so 
you’ll just be a passenger for a while. You can 
paddle when the paddlin’ is straight ahead, but when 
I say ‘Hold out,’ git your blade out o’ the water 
quick.” 

“All right. I’ll obey orders.” 

Downstream they went with the rapidly moving 
water. It was a fast hill stream, which broke into 
white caps at short intervals as the shallow current 
struck a rocky section or where the land fell away 
sharply. The speed at which they traveled was ex- 
hilarating, and the murmur along quiet shores, or 
the seething hiss and dash of the white caps over and 
241 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


among the rocks made pleasant music for the voy- 
agers. 

“There’s something ahead !” exclaimed Tom. 

“Yep, wild duck an’ her brood; see ’em here every 
season. They can swim, too, the little beggars.” 

“Let’s see if we can catch up to them.” 

“Look! Look overhead!” excitedly whispered 
Hiram. 

Tom glanced upward in time to mark the swift 
swoop of an enormous bird which, in a flash, had 
dropped from the clouds and, in the twinkling of 
an eye, had struck the mother duck where she swam 
in the midst of her brood. These little down-puffs 
scattered at once for the overhanging bank, and dis- 
appeared like the blowing out of a candle. With 
some difficulty the eagle, for such it was, lifted his 
prize from the water, but finding the burden too 
great, or being satisfied with the sport of capture, he 
dropped his victim at about the height of the tree 
tops and she, lighting easily on the water, dived and 
did not appear again. 

“Now, what do you think of that?” exclaimed 
Tom. 

“Great, ain’t it! You wouldn’t see anythin’ like 
that in Steubenville in forty years. That’s why I 
242 


THE HILLS 


likes to get out here, where things you can’t scussly 
believe happens right afore your eyes.” 

“Oh, it’s wonderful I Look down this stream, 
straight ahead, green walls on both sides, running 
water, birds we can see and animals we can’t, and 
not another soul in sight. It’s great I” 

“Can’t beat it! Now you be ready to do what I 
tell you, an’ do it quick. We’ll be in the upper rapids 
in a few minutes.” 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


FAST WATER 


OM hardly knew how they got into it, but 



^ he saw white water ahead, and as they ap- 
proached the seething, dashing turmoil he noted that 
Hiram rose up in the canoe and with hand shading 
his eyes gazed long and steadily ahead, as though 
seeking a safe course through the wilderness of 
spray. In another minute he heard him say, “Take 
out your paddle. I’ll take charge ; jest you keep steady 
and don’t move no matter what happens.” 

It was a nerve-trying experience to sit there and 
do nothing, with the rocks seeming to rise up on both 
sides in such rapid succession as to give the impres- 
sion that they were living things, while the waters 
writhed, twisted and hissed to right and left. Tom 
hardly breathed. He trusted his friend, but it 
seemed they must strike any moment. But with 
nerves tense and straining eyes he suddenly found 
himself, canoe and all, in quiet water. 


244 


FAST WATER 


“Thar!” said Hiram breathing heavily, “I knew 
I hadn’t lost the trick. I’m goin’ to try the big rap- 
ids lower down.” 

“Are they worse than this?” asked Tom a little 
anxiously. 

' “They’re bigger, but they’ll be more fun on that 
account. Like this sort o’ sport?” 

I “Great !” said Tom, “only I wish I could do some- 
thing. I hate sitting still.” 

“That’s hard, all right. It’s always harder bein’ 
patient than a-doin’ things. We’ll rest on this lake 
' a while, git our dinner an’ do a little fishin’. Then 
1 v/e’ll go on down, an’ tomorrow we’ll be at the big 
j rapids. Thet’ll be the real thing.” 

“I’ll stay with you wherever you go, but I do wish 
I knew enough to help over the hard places.” 

I “You’ll learn. Shall we try for a fish or two for 
I dinner?” 

“That was pretty good ham we had this morn- 
i' ing.” 

“Yep, but we got to make sort o’ a change once 
i In a while.” 

I “Oh, I suppose so, but let’s call it ham if we don’t 
I catch any fish.” 

I “All right, but we will catch fish. See, here!” 

I 245 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


And Hiram opened one of the brown bags and drew 
out a rod case. This he opened, and drew forth a 
beautiful bamboo rod. Then he opened another 
package and brought out a fine reel, lines, hooks, a 
book of assorted flies and several lures for bait- 
casting. “This is Mr. Lincoln’s present to you for 
this trip. It’s all from your own stock an’ therefore 
first-class.” 

“I’ve sold that sort of sporting goods, but they 
never looked like anything to me till now. Yes, let’s 
have fish for dinner. I want to catch a fish, and I 
want to catch it with that rod!” 

Several of the words Hiram had used stuck in 
Tom’s mind and set him thinking. He had said, “It’s 
all from your own stock and therefore first-class.” 
Tom wondered if Hiram kpew anything about the 
cheap line he was just about to take hold of. “I’ll 
tell him about it, and see what he thinks,” he said to 
himself. 

The little lake, which was but a widening of the 
river bed, was as calm as any millpond, and its 
quiet, shadowy shores seemed to promise to Hiram’s 
eager eyes lurking places for fish untold. After 
showing Tom how to assemble his fishing outfit, 
and getting his own in readiness, he gently edged 
246 


FAST WATER 


the canoe toward the nearer shore. “We’ll try 
bait-castin’ first, and after we make sure of a 
mess o’ fish for dinner, we’ll experiment with flies,” 
he said. 

“Aren’t the flies as good?” 

“Some thinks so, but I kin always see a meal 
quicker with real live bait or a good imitation, though 
I have had some luck with flies. However, as we 
want fish for dinner, let’s try bait-castin’ ; then we’ll 
fool with flies later, say after dinner.” 

Tom watched with intense interest as with easy 
motion Hiram cast a little artificial minnow under 
the overhanging shrubbery. The bait hardly rested 
a second on the water before, with quadruple reel, 
Hiram had it moving rapidly toward the boat. “You 
see it’s got to look like a real minnow to the fish 
you’re after or he won’t strike at it, and to look like 
a real minnow it must be movin’. The minute it 
strikes the water you must start it on its homeward 
way.” 

Tom watched it all carefully as Hiram made cast 
after cast, all appearing to be done so easily and 
smoothly that it did not seem at all difficult until 
he tried it himself. There was the inevitable be- 
ginner’s snarl, and Tom went at it again and again, 
247 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


determined to master a sport for which a strange 
hunger had been aroused. 

“Don’t seem to be much doin’ here,” remarked 
Hiram after ten minutes of fruitless work. “Let’s 
try t’other side, no accountin’ for fish.” A few min- 
utes’ work at the paddle brought them across the 
lake, and this time Hiram worked his canoe in close 
under the overhang, casting ahead. “Now, thar’s 
a likely lookin’ clump o’ alder, let me try thet with a 
long-distance cast an’ see what happens.” 

A long, smooth cast was made, the little wagtail 
bait falling close to the bushes. Hardly had it 
touched the water than there was a splash, and an 
arc of silver rose and fell before their eyes. “Wall- 
eyed-pike I” exclaimed Hiram, “an’ a good one. 
Now watch me tire him out.” 

Back and forth darted the pike, but always when 
the strain came he found himself pulling against the 
spring of the bamboo rod and there was nothing for 
him to break. When he sought deep water Hiram 
gave him the line, and when he rose he took in the 
slack, but held his rod low. “He ain’t got no chance 
against brains, even so poor a set as I got. All you 
got to do to land him easy is to keep him workin’ 
his head off ag’in the spring o’ the rod. But if you 
248 


FAST WATER 


want to lose him, yank, or give him somethin’ to yank 
ag’in, an’ it’s good-by pike !” 

Tom was a good listener, and in a few minutes he 
saw the lecture he was listening to illustrated, as 
Hiram lifted a very tired fish over the side of the 
canoe. “Almost four pounds,” he remarked. 
“Come, let’s git dinner. I kin eat a pound o’ fish 
an’ you kin have the other three.” 

“I feel as though I could eat the whole of him,” 
said Tom. 

“Yep, that’s the way you feel, but you couldn’t do 
it to save your immortal soul, fish is that fillin’.” 

“There’s a good-looking beach,” said Tom indi- 
cating a shelving line of white ahead. 

“That’s our dinner-table,” said Hiram. 

“I like the sound of a canoe scraping on pebbles,” 
said Tom, as they ran their light craft ashore. 

“I like every bloomin’ thing about this here out- 
doors,” said Hiram with deep feeling. 

An upward writhing wreath of smoke was all that 
betrayed their presence on that lonely little shelf 
of sand, and after the broiled fish, hot tea and bis- 
cuits with strawberry jam for dessert, they stretched 
at length on the warm ground, to enjoy the midsum- 
mer quiet and to rest and dream before going far- 
17 249 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


ther. Suddenly Tom turned to Hiram, “I’m think- 
ing of putting in a cheap line like Slocum’s,” he said. 
“Would you do it?” 

There was so long a pause that Tom put the ques- 
tion again. 

“I heard you, but it’s a big order, an’ I was think- 
in’. Suppose I tell you in my own way.” 

“Go ahead. I didn’t ask for fun. I’ve been think- 
ing about it hard. I want to get a right answer.” 


CHAPTER XXXV 


AN ANSWER 

'^^OU see me stand up an’ pick my course before 
I ran them rapids back there?” 

“Yes, I supposed that was what you were doing.” 

“Well, now, up in Canady them Indians an’ half- 
breeds know more about a canoe than I’ll ever know 
if I live to be fourteen hundred years old, an’ they 
alius picks a course an’ sticks to it regardless, an’ 
they most generally gits through with a whole skin, 
an’ some o’ them rapids would make what we been 
through look like a bathtub half full o’ warm water 
an’ suds.” 

“Quite a difference, I should say.” 

“Yep, an’ if a Indian or one o’ them half-breeds 
gits foolish or scared an’ changes his course halfway 
downstream, an’ has his canoe broke in two ag’in a 
rock an’ his head smashed ag’in another rock, he don’t 
git no sympathy. I hearn a Indian remark at a feller 
what changed his mind a-shootin’ down a bad rapid 
251 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


an’ got his head smashed to a pancake, ‘Served him 
right,’ he said, ‘he ain’t got no business runnin’ rap- 
ids if he’s got to change his mind.’ That’s how they 
look at it — pick your course an’ stick to it. 

“Now, see here, Mr. Tom Stewart,” and there 
was an earnestness in Hiram Johnson’s voice such 
as Tom had not heard before, “if you was in the 
middle o’ a river in a canoe and found your guide 
a-changin’ his mind every few minutes, I reckon 
you’d worry some. 

“If you heard him remark one minute, ‘I’m goin’ 
to shoot them rapids ahead an’ I guess I’ll hold to 
the right shore,’ an’ then after hesitatin’ some he’d 
up an’ remark ag’in, ‘No, I reckon I’ll hold to the 
left,’ you’d say to yourself, ‘Heaven help this canoe 
an’ me, for this here guide don’t know what he wants 
to do, or if he does he can’t make himself do it.’ 

“If you found yourself caught that way, I reckon 
if your guide run you inshore or near quiet water 
lor a minute you’d jump, I know I would, an’ be 
ding-donged grateful to feel real ground under my 
feet once more. 

“Now, I reckon your own body is a sort o’ canoe, 
an’ this here river is what you might call life. Your 
mind is what’s guidin’ the canoe; that is to say, your 
252 


AN ANSWER 


guide is in your own head. If that guide is steady, 
can lay a course an’ stick to it, you’re safe. 

“The time o’ danger in your canoe is when you 
discover your guide doesn’t know where he’s goin’, 
an’ if he does, can’t stick to no course to git thar. 

“The time o’ danger in your life is when you find 
your mind, which you might regard as your guide, 
can’t figure out where you’re goin’ and can’t lay no 
course nor follow one. 

“You can begin to worry when you find today you 
are doin’ what you promised yourself yesterday you 
wouldn’t never do. When you ain’t got a will that 
can boss your body, believe me, son, it’s time to git 
nervous. 

“You sold only the goods at Fort & Saxe’s that 
was high grade, none o’ this here ‘just as good’ stuff, 
hey?” 

“Yes,” admitted Tom, “all first-class stock; noth- 
ing we couldn’t stand back of.” 

“An’ you started in with The Lincoln Hardware 
Company on the same lines?” 

“Yes, all standard goods.” 

“Well, you been listenin’ to what I been tryin’ to 
say?” 

“Yes.” 


253 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Then you got all the answer I can give you. Let’s 
break camp an’ go on downstream, I hate lecturin’.” 

It was well on toward dark when they pitched 
their seven by seven tent, cooked their evening meal, 
and after a chat about the fire turned in, so tired and 
sleepy that the rough and quickly prepared bed of 
spruce on which they laid their blankets looked as 
inviting as Mrs. Maria Johnson’s comfortable quar- 
ters at the farm. 

It was very early in the morning when Tom awoke, 
and he lifted the flap of the tent cautiously so as 
not to awaken Hiram, who was breathing regularly 
in a sound and comfortable slumber. As he did so, 
a startled deer, whose curiosity had brought him close 
to the tent which had grown up so suddenly during 
the night, snorted, and in a few magnificent bounds 
reached the timber and disappeared. “A deerl” 
thought Tom. “This is real outdoor life. Wonder 
if I could get breakfast and surprise Hiram. I never 
cooked anything in my life. I’ll build a fire, any- 
way.” 

Tom had seen Hiram build several fires, so he 
made a good beginning by cutting two sections from 
a fallen tree. It was good exercise, but he found 
he was not so good an axman as Hiram. Between 

254 


AN ANSWER 


these two heavy logs he started a blaze with chips 
and smaller wood, and soon had a roaring fire going. 
He then put on a pot of water, but when he looked 
at the bag of self-raising flour his courage failed. 
“Guess ril let Hiram make the biscuits,” he said, 
“ril go down to the shore and try bait-casting. I 
want to learn that trick.” 

It was very early in the morning, and though light 
enough, the sun had not yet risen. The fire crackled 
behind him as he jointed his rod and stepped down 
to the smoothly running black water. It was all so 
quiet and there was such an air of mystery and 
promise of undiscovered country where the river lost 
itself to the eye round the bend to the right. “I’ll 
try the same little wagtail Hiram used yesterday,” 
said Tom, “wish I could make a decent cast.” 

One effort followed another, and there was 
always a snarl in the reel as the unaccustomed thumb 
failed to check the spool in time and the back-lash 
furnished exasperating loops for Tom to pick out 
before he could make another attempt. Finally, 
however, he did manage to get his bait fairly on the 
water and to start it moving toward shore with a 
turn of the reel. When halfway in there came a 
sudden deep-water tug. Tom saw his line straighten 

255 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


out and his rod double in a graceful curve. There 
was no fish to be seen, but Tom knew it was there 
and he thrilled to the new experience. 

“Oh, how I want this fellow I I’d like to show him 
to Hiram just to show I’ve been listening to his in- 
structions. I’ll try and tire him out, but I’d rather 
yank him right out on the beach.” 

Tom kept that fish sawing back and forth until the 
strain gradually slackened and slowly and surely he 
reeled him in till he could see his catch flash and 
turn before him. “What a beauty !” he exclaimed. 

“Yes, an’ jest you hold him there easy like or he’ll 
git away yet.” It was Hiram’s voice and he waded 
out a few feet into the stream with a landing net 
in his hand. “Don’t try an’ lift him, jest swing him 
over this way, easy like, thar ! I got him ! There’s 
breakfast for a king.” 

“What is it?” 

“Small mouth black bass, a good three pounds, an’ 
a dandy catch. Some fighter, hey?” 

“Seemed like it to me, but I thought you were 
asleep.” 

“Me, oh, I alius sleeps with one eye open. I hearn 
you choppin’, an’ it sounded good to hear somebody 
else doin’ the work, but when I hearn the fire cracklin’ 
256 


AN ANSWER 


I had to git up. Come on up, you got fish enough, 
an’ I’ll show you how to make old-fashioned johnny- 
cake.” 

“I wanted to try making biscuits, but I lost my 
nerve when I took a good look at the flour.” 

“Well, you got to have a recipe or have cookin’ 
born in your system. Thet’s me, I never make it 
twice alike, but it alius comes out good. See this 
here baker, it folds flat so it don’t take up no room in 
particular, but when it’s open an’ up ag’in the fire the 
heat strikes the pan o’ biscuits or johnny-cake below 
an’ above, an’ cooks ’em to a turn, you jest watch.” 

Tom watched and he also watched the bacon siz- 
zle and the fish fry and the coffee come to a boil. 
It was wonderful, this getting breakfast at about five 
in the morning on a little sand beach on the side of 


a river. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


CHEAP 

river they were now gliding down was no 
longer a little river, for it had been added to 
by several mountain streams, and altogether they 
made a waterway of quite respectable proportions. 

Their two bags, into which had been crowded 
everything they had brought along, including blank- 
ets, tent, ax, food, cooking utensils and fishing tackle 
were securely lashed to place. “I don’t expect no 
upset, but I ain’t takin’ no chances,” explained 
Hiram, while he tied the bags securely to the cross 
braces. 

Tom thought it was the sound of a rising wind in 
the distance that came to his ears from somewhere 
ahead. “No, them’s the rapids,” Hiram answered. 
“The wind sets this way; we’ll be in ’em presently.” 

Tom felt a little queer inside, but he determined 
to stick it out and trust to his friend to bring them 
safely through, besides, the rapids were beginning 
258 


CHEAP 


to have the same fascination for him which they have 
had for many another adventurer. 

Louder grew the roar as they drew nearer to its 
source, until, on rounding a bend of the river, Tom 
could see the great avenue of turbid whiteness ahead. 
It was a wonderful and awe-inspiring sight, and 
there was such an air of power set free about it, that 
it was somehow threatening, almost appalling. It 
seemed like tempting Providence to venture farther, 
but Tom said nothing. He might as well have 
spoken his mind, for Hiram evidently had been think- 
ing much the same thoughts. “It’s all right if you 
know how, an’ it ain’t takin’ no more risk than trav- 
elin’ across town in New York, only you got to be 
able to read the signs and act quick. I’d ruther shoot 
them rapids than run across Broadway forty times at 
Fulton Street.” 

“I’ll trust you to know what you’re doing,” replied 
Tom quietly. 

Hiram, as usual, had been standing gazing ahead 
steadily at the foaming torrent. “River’s high, 
plenty o’ water, but some rough; we’ll hold to the 
right o’ the center. All you got to do is to set still 
an’ enjoy the scenery.” 

In, with a streak of green water that bent like a 
259 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 

steel bow between two rocks, slipped the canoe, 
guided by Hiram. Tom sat forward on the bottom, 
and Hiram knelt on the bottom in the rear with 
paddle held over the side guiding the frail craft. 
They rode along their chosen streak of green water, 
shaving some rocks rather closely, but always going 
with a strong current, which of itself drew them on 
and away from the constantly threatening rocks. 
Sometimes it seemed that Hiram hardly used his 
blade, and at others a few swift, powerful strokes 
kept them head on and brought them safely around 
some dangerous turn. 

“In a minute we’ll be through the worst o’ it,” he 
remarked to Tom, as the size of the horse-manes in- 
creased to either side of them. “Now, here’s our 
worst chance,” he grunted between strokes, “but I’ll 
drive her through — ” 

Snap ! In a moment they were broadside on, in 
another the canoe had rolled over and Tom and 
Hiram were swept, gasping and struggling, down- 
stream. Tom could not tell how it happened, but 
he found himself flung bodily on a shelf of rock 
over which a few inches of water were flowing. 
Drawing himself up and out of the current he found 
he could keep his footing without much difficulty 
260 



“ Snap! In a moment they were broadside on 






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CHEAP 


and so, standing in water running halfway to his 
knees, he took stock of the situation. At first he 
could see nothing of Hiram or the canoe and his 
heart sank within him, turning he could make out a 
slippery and perilous route over rocks and through 
ribbons of running water to the right shore. Pres- 
ently, from behind the dashing spray ahead and over 
the din of the rushing, grinding waters, came a faint 
halloo. Tom’s heart leaped at the sound and he 
raised his voice in answer. There it was again and 
louder, but Tom could not see its owner. 

“Are you safe?” cried Tom. 

“Yes,” came the faint answer. And then Tom 
decided to wait where he was for a few moments, 
for he did not feel at all sure about making that 
trip to the shore. “He’ll know how,” he said to 
himself, “and I don’t want to take another dip.” 

Presently he could make out Hiram’s form, par- 
tially hidden by the horse-manes and spray wreaths 
ahead, as he crawled and fought -his way toward 
shore, and then he heard his hearty shout, “Hello, 
Tom! Stay where you be till I get to you.” 

Hiram had picked up a stout branch of a tree 
from alongshore and, using it to steady himself, he 
gradually worked his way out to where Tom stood 
261 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


on his precarious perch. Then, extending his branch 
until Tom got a good hold on it, he helped him 
across from one rock to another and through several 
swift, though fortunately shallow streams of water, 
till at length they stood on dry shore. “Thank God, 
you’re here, Tom I Come with me, I want to show 
you something.” Tom followed, for there was some- 
thing ominous in Hiram’s voice. 

Down along the shore they went in silence to the 
spot 'where Hiram had made his landing. Here he 
stooped and picked up something and held it out 
toward Tom in his clenched fist. It was the handle 
of his paddle from which the blade had been broken 
off short and there in the wood was the tell-tale 
knot. 

“Cheap goods 1” said Hiram in utter contempt. 
“I bought it at Slocum & Stilwell’s.” 

Tom’s conscience smote him as though he himself 
had committed a crime. 

“Cheap goods!” continued Hiram, in scorn of 
himself as well as of Slocum. “I bought it because 
it was cheap. I wondered at the time how it could 
be sold at the price. I paid for paint an’ varnish, 
but I got no paddle, and you might be dead an’ I 
responsible. But it was a bargain, oh, it was a bar- 
262 


CHEAP 


gain! It had the price. It was cheap, cheap, 
cheap r* 

Tom had not thought such vehemence could come 
from the usually quiet-spoken Hiram, but here a vol- 
cano had been unearthed and Tom got a glimpse of 
the profound depths 

“What about the canoe?” he asked, for he could 
think of nothing else to say. 

“Oh, we’ll git thetl I seen it lodged on some 
rocks down yonder, but, Tom, can you forgive me?” 

“Hiram, let’s talk about something else, you know 
I was thinking about putting in a cheap line. I think 
I know now why mother wanted me to take a vaca- 
tion. I think I can see straight.” 


CHAPTER XXXVII 


A WEIRD NIGHT 


OWN STREAM, and lodged across a line of 
rocks near shore, they found their overturned 
canoe. On wading out and righting it they were re- 
joiced to see their two duffle-bags still securely lashed 
in place. “Thet goes to show it’s worth while look- 
in’ ahead a bit,” said Hiram. “We ain’t had no seri- 
ous loss.” 

“Things must be pretty wet inside those bags,” 
said Tom. 

“Let’s git ’em ashore and see what the damage is.” 

The canoe, with its wet freight, was soon piloted 
ashore. The mouths of the two bags were untied 
and it was found that very little water had pene- 
trated. “Not much to complain of,” said Hiram 
cheerfully. 

“Yes, but we ve lost both paddles.” 

“That needn’t bother us so long as we have an ax. 
I’ll guarantee to make a pair o’ paddles a sight bet- 
264 


A WEIRD NIGHT 


ter’n the two we brought with us; but now Fll cut 
a pole an’ that’ll take us down to Grand Lake. We’ll 
keep inshore where it’s shallow so we can use the 
pole.” 

Selecting a clean, straight hickory about two and 
a half inches in diameter, Hiram cut it down and 
trimmed it neatly with his ax. “Now, we’ll put on a 
shoe, an’ we’ll have as good a pole as anyone need 
ask for.” Opening up one of the bags and scatter- 
ing most of its contents upon the shore, he finally lo- 
cated the object of his search. It was a cornucopia- 
shaped hollow piece of iron, dull pointed, and it was 
easily driven to place on the sharpened end of the 
newly cut pole. A spike driven through the hole pre- 
pared for it fastened the shoe securely. “There, 
now, we’re ready. There’s as much skill in manipu- 
latin’ a stick like this as in handlin’ a paddle ; some 
thinks more.” 

Tom got into the canoe forward, while Hiram 
stood up in the stern and guided their craft among 
the rocks, keeping in shoal water, as the depth in the 
center of the river was too great for pole work. 
They were soon past the rapids, gliding along with 
the smooth current, and about an hour later they slid 
into the clear waters of Grand Lake. 

265 


18 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


Midway down the lake a long sand bar ran out 
from the westerly bank, and on its sloping beach 
they ran their canoe ashore and pitched their tent, 
and on this picturesque spot they made their head- 
quarters for more than a week. North and south 
extended the lake, and from their tent opening they 
could get a full sweep of the quiet waters in both 
directions. 

They talked no more of their narrow escape in 
the rapids or of the cause, but lived like Indians, and 
Tom forgot there was such a thing as business. 

“I’ll learn you to swim,” said Hiram. 

“And to fish,” added Tom. 

“An’ to handle a canoe.” 

“And to cook.” 

“An’, what beats all, to git the love o’ it into your 
system so it won’t ever git away from you ag’in.” 

“You’ve done that already,” said Tom. 

“Then I’ve done good work.” 

The day came all too soon when Hiram remarked : 
“Now I reckon we’d best be movin’ upstream. It’ll 
be hard goin’, but we’re in good condition, an’ I guess 
we can stand it.” 

“How about the big rapids?” asked Tom. 

“Thet’s where we portage.” 

266 


A WEIRD NIGHT 


“And the small ones?” 

“We’ll pole right up them.” 

“Goodl I want to see you do it.” 

So a start was made, and on Tuesday noon they 
were at the foot of the big rapids. The paddles they 
were now using were rough-hewn affairs, but there 
was no question as to their honesty. Drawing their 
canoe ashore, Hiram rigged a tumpline for Tom, so 
that the weight of the duffle-bag he was to carry 
would be distributed on his shoulders and back with 
the flat leather band drawn across his forehead. 
Hiram carried the canoe with its weight well bal- 
anced and resting on the paddles, which in turn 
rested in the grooves of his shoulders. So they pro- 
ceeded around the big rapids until they could place 
the canoe in quiet water. A second trip was neces- 
sary to secure the second bag, and as all this took 
time they pitched camp that evening well tired and 
hungry, with another day’s journey ahead of them 
before they could make the shack from which they 
had started. 

That night was a weird one. In the first place, it 
was one of those unnaturally quiet nights. It seemed 
that hardly a leaf stirred or any creature moved, 
and yet Tom was sure the place about him was full 
267 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


of life. At any rate, he was very much awake, and 
he felt sure he never could go to sleep. There was 
the faintest swish from the river, and he could hear 
the individual pebbles as they turned on the shore. 
Then a little later he was confident he could hear 
something stepping ever so quietly and at long inter- 
vals, ever nearer and nearer the tent in which he was 
trying so hard to go to sleep. At length, in des- 
peration, he decided to raise the flap of the tent and 
look out. As he did so he could hear, or thought 
he could, something draw back cautiously, but he 
could not be certain about this and suspected his 
nerves were playing him tricks. Night, on the 
ground, in the woods, is a strange place to find one- 
self. 

There before him stretched the black, gurgling 
river, and as he looked, there flashed up from its 
surface a curving shower of silver, and there fol- 
lowed a loud splash, as the fish which had made the 
jump returned to his native element. All was now 
quieter than before, but presently, from right over 
Tom’s head, came the mournful hoot of an owl. It 
was so near and so human a sound that Tom jumped 
and then recovered himself. “I’m nervous as a cat,” 
he remarked; but the night entertainment was not 
268 


A WEIRD NIGHT 


yet over, for the hoot of that owl had called for a 
response from other owls, and these had startled a 
deer, who was drinking at the water’s edge, and in 
fright he had trumpeted and crashed back into the 
woods. All this commotion drew forth the mock- 
ing laughter of a loon from farther up the river, and 
as this unearthly call reached Tom, he turned to 
look at Hiram where he lay in peaceful slumber, 
and he longed to wake him and ask what it was all 
about. The night closed in around these startling 
outcries and seemed by contrast even quieter than 
before, and Tom dropped the flap of the tent and 
crawled back under his covers. “It’s a strange coun- 
try,” he remarked. “I wish I could sleep through it 
all like Hiram.” He must have been granted his 
request very promptly, for the next thing he knew 
somebody was shaking him by the shoulder, “Get up, 
lazy-bones, time for breakfast.” 

“What was it all about?” asked Tom half awake. 

“What all about?” 

“Oh, last night something hooted at a fish because 
he jumped out of the water, then a fellow upstream 
blew a tin horn, and some crazy woman laughed fit 
to kill ! It was a noisy place here after you went to 
sleep.” 


269 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Ha, ha !” laughed Hiram, “loons, owls and deer 
— they can be noisy when they git started, an’ some- 
times they’ll keep it up till you’d give a nickel to 
knock their fool heads off.” 

“It’s all right in the morning, but it sounds mighty 
queer at night. What’s the program for today?” 

“Today we climb the upper rapids, and if nothin’ 
happens we camp tonight in our shack.” 

“Good, I’ll be glad and sorry, too. Glad to see 
the folks and sorry to see the end of this trip.” 

“Like it, hey?” 

“Never knew there was so much fun lying around 
loose in the world.” 

“I thought it’d git you ; so did Jethro. I reckon 
you ain’t lost nothin’ by takin’ a vacation when you 
needed one pretty bad.” 

“No, I believe it came just in time,” and Tom 
spoke with conviction. 

Hiram did not answer, and that morning there 
was so much straining at the paddles against the 
swift current that there was little talk till they camped 
at noon, and then the main topic of conversation was 
the climbing of the rapids whose voice reached them 
from farther upstream. 

As Hiram had remarked when he cut, trimmed 
270 


A WEIRD NIGHT 


and shod his pole, the use of this implement of the 
canoe-man’s craft required as much skill as the use 
of the paddle ; and when at length the rapids were 
reached and Hiram propelled his craft up, over, and 
through them without mishap, it aroused Tom’s ad- 
miration. 

“It doesn’t seem possible to work a boat up rapids 
the way you’re doing, and if I hadn’t seen it I couldn’t 
have believed it.” 

“It’s nothin’ to what they do right along in Can- 
ada. Why, I could tell you things I’ve seen them 
Indians do that’d make your hair curl.” 

“I want you to show me how.” 

“I will some day. This ain’t our last trip, I hope.” 

“I certainly hope not.” 

“I won’t give no lessons now, for we got to be at 
the shack tonight. My man will be there with the 
ponies, an’ we’ll make an early get away tomorrow 
morning.” 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 


THE DECISION 


QUIET, restful night at the shack, another at 



Hiram’s farm, and then a brisk drive right 
after the noon meal brought Tom to his own front 
gate just before supper. The little family group 
was out on the front porch watching for him, and 
Nap wagged his tail so hard that Hiram insisted the 
wag commenced just back of his ears. 

“Hello, Torn!” came the welcoming chorus, as 
Hiram brought his team to a short stop right at the 
gate. 

“Hello, Mother! Hello, Sis! Hello, Guy! 
There, Nap, get down a minute !’^ 

“Do come in, Mr. Johnson,” urged Mrs. Stewart, 
“we never can thank you enough.” 

“Don’t thank me, I jest been havin’ the time o’ 
my life, an’ Tom’s goin’ ag’in. I got what I been 
lookin’ for, a man that likes campin’ the way I do. 
Come in? No, not now. If I did, I wouldn’t git 
no attention, Tom’s about all you really need in the 


272 


THE DECISION 


way o' entertainment. Good-by, see you next week,’" 
and Hiram drove off, having done the right thing in 
the right way. 

“Tell us all about it,” urged Guy. 

Let him alone, Guy. Give him a chance to wash 
up. Supper’ll be ready by the time you are washed, 
Tom,” said Mary. 

“It is good to have you back safe and sound, and 
how well you look,” said Mrs. Stewart. 

“I’m feeling fine. Now tell me how you are. 
Mother?” And Tom looked at her searchingly. 

“I’m truly gaining. I don’t know when I’ve felt 
so well.” 

“That’s splendid, now everything else will be all 
right,” and Tom ran up to his room. 

This was the first home-coming after the first sep- 
aration in that little family and it was a great event. 
Tom had to start at the beginning and tell in detail 
the whole story of his trip. It commenced at the 
supper-table and continued until the door-bell rang. 

“It’s Mr. Lincoln,” announced Guy. “Now 
you’re going to hear a story just as good as the one 
you’ve been telling.” 

Tom rose and went to the door. “Good-evening, 
Mr. Lincoln.” 


273 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Hello, Tom, glad you’re back! You’re needed 
at the store.” 

“That sounds good. Come in and tell me 
about it.” 

Mr. Lincoln strode into the room and immediately 
became part of the general reunion. “There isn’t 
much to tell,” he commenced, “but what there is is 
good.” 

“You bet I” exclaimed Guy. “It’s the real thing I” 

“Go on, let’s hear it,” urged Tom. 

“Well, you know that salesman, Mr. Bagby, from 
Snare & Tobey promised to get those goods to us in 
less than two weeks if he could.” 

“Yes, I remember, but I put it down for talk.” 

“Well, the whole line of goods was dumped on us 
in just seven days from the time he took the order.” 

“That’s a record-breaker — a salesman keeping his 
word is something of a novelty.” 

“That’s what I thought. You know I’ve got to 
make you a sort of an apology.” 

“I guess not, forget it, whatever it is.” 

“It’s this. You remember I didn’t exactly like that 
purchase of yours, that cheap line.” 

“Yes, I’m not sure I like it myself as much as I 
thought I did when I ordered the stuff.” 

274 


THE DECISION 


“Wait a bit !” put in Guy excitedly. 

“I got to confess,” continued Mr. Lincoln, “I got 
to confess that you were right. It’s the biggest busi- 
ness stroke you’ve made yet.” 

“I, I — ” stammered Tom. 

“Never mind,” and Mr. Lincoln raised his hand, 
“listen to my story. I didn’t like the stuff when it 
arrived, but as it was your buy I decided to show 
the stock at once, and I even went so far as to adver- 
tise in the Eagle, I just advertised ‘lowest prices 
in town,’ and cut under Slocum & Stilwell’s figures a 
cent or so on each article. Well, we’ve been as busy 
as a hen on a hot stove ever since.” 

“I should say so,” said Guy. “I’ve heard more 
talk in town how our store has beaten Slocum & 
Stilwell at their own game. It’s a great comp.” 

“But, how about the quality of the line, can we 
stand back of it?” 

Mr. Lincoln hesitated and seemed a little surprised 
at the question. “Why, I don’t know, all I know is 
we’re busy, and folks are congratulating me every 
day on our having stood up under Slocum’s fire.” 

“How did you advertise the line?” 

“Oh, just gave a list of the goods and the cut 
prices!” 


275 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“Didn’t say it was a cheap line at a cheap price?” 

“No, didn’t say anything.” 

“Then we’re no better than Slocum & Stilwell.” 

“Why, I thought I was doing exactly what you 
wanted done. I pushed the whole thing more to 
please you than anything else. I don’t like cheap 
goods and never did.” 

“And you sent me out to the hills so I might get 
a chance to see straight?” 

“Yes, yes, but — ” and Mr. Lincoln looked at Tom 
and could say no more. Mrs. Stewart and Mary had 
been listeners, but had taken no part in the conver- 
sation, but now Mrs. Stewart spoke. “Tom, tell Mr. 
Lincoln about the accident in the rapids.” 

Mr. Lincoln showed surprise and a little annoy- 
ance at a suggestion of this sort coming at what 
seemed an inopportune moment, but he resigned him- 
self to listen, for he held Mrs. Stewart in high 
esteem. 

Tom told the story well and he quoted from 
Hiram Johnson as he spoke when he held the broken 
handle of the paddle in his hand and repeated with 
all the tenseness of his nature aroused at the recol- 
lection, “I bought it at Slocum & Stilwell’s. It was 
cheap, cheap, cheap I” 


276 


THE DECISION 


“Why, Tom, you didn’t feel that way about it 
when you ordered the new line,” said Mary, unable 
to comprehend the impression the experience in the 
rapids had made on Tom, “you were proud of what 
you had done to meet competition, and the way busi- 
ness has improved shows you were right.” 

“I was wrong no matter how much we sell of the 
cheap line. It’s all right to sell it for what it is, but 
it’s all wrong just to say ‘reduced prices,’ as though 
we had cut the price on our standard goods.” 

“That’s what Slocum did,” interposed Guy. 

“Yes, and I could see it was rotten business when 
Slocum advertised one thing and sold another, but 
when I got a chance to do the same thing he was 
doing, I was blind enough to want to do it.” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Lincoln slowly, “and I could see 
you were dead wrong then, and I wanted you to get 
away where you could think it over and find your- 
self again. And when you were gone I fell into the 
same trap that had caught you. The minute the 
goods began to sell I hadn’t the courage to tell folks 
that they weren’t our regular stock. Tom, we must 
find a way out of this, right away, no matter what 
it costs. You’re right and Hiram Johnson was right, 
now how shall we go about it?” 

277 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“There’s only one answer, and I’ve asked myself 
your question a hundred times.” 

“What is it?” 

“Sell the goods for just what they are. Tell the 
people they’re not our standard line. Tell them it’s 
a cheap line that they can have at a price, and that’s 
all there is to it.” 

“Then, Tom, we got to tell them we deceived them 
in what we’ve already sold.” 

“Can’t help it, it’s got to be done. I can’t see how 
it’s going to work, but, somehow, out in the woods 
there, it seemed clear enough that to tell the truth 
about the goods was the only way.” 

“You’re right, Tom, it is the only way and we’ll 
do it,” and Mr. Lincoln rose to go. 

“They’ll laugh at you and don’t you forget it,” 
said Guy. 

“Guess we’ll have to stand it, then,” said Mr. 
Lincoln. 

“I hate to think of Slocum getting the best of you 
after all,” said Mary, “but I suppose it will pay in 
the end.” 

“Sis, I don’t care a rap whether it pays or not, 
ever, but when The Lincoln Hardware Company 
sells anything it’s going to be just what they say it is.” 
278 


THE DECISION 


“We’ll shake on that,” said Mr. Lincoln, “we’re 
both used to being poor so we can stand it if we lose 
a little business.” The door closed on Mr. Lincoln 
and left the little family group silently looking at one 
another. 

“There goes your business scoop,” commented 
Guy. 

“I hate to see Slocum get ahead of you, Tom, just 
because he isn’t honest,” said Mary. 

“But you wouldn’t like to see me win out against 
him by using his methods, would you?” 

“No, but—” 

“Tom,” and there was great earnestness in Mrs. 
Stewart’s voice. “You know you are right, and that 
is enough. You can go ahead now and win your fight 
and still be a man. I’m proud of you.” 


CHAPTER XXXIX 


JUST AS GOOD 


HEN Tom reached his room that night he 



found a letter on his bureau from Mr. Fort. 
Glancing at the postmark he could see that it had 
arrived two days earlier. Always glad to hear from 
Eis friend, he opened the envelope eagerly. He read 
it through twice. “There, I’m glad he feels that 
way about it and I’m glad I’d made up my mind be- 
fore I got it. I’ll answer this as soon as we’ve put 
the cheap line on its proper basis.” The letter read 
as follows : 

Dear Tom : I was rather disappointed to see your ad- 
vertisement in Friday’s Eagle, I know you are having a 
hard fight of it against Slocum & Stilwell’s cheap line of 
goods, but I know that line well, and also know that no 
permanent business can be built on such trash. They will 
be found out sooner or later, and will pay the price that 
always follows deception. Therefore I was surprised to 
see you fighting him on his own terms. It is not like you. 
I think you have been misled or overanxious. I shall be 


280 


JUST AS GOOD 


glad to hear from you on this matter. If I can help you 
solve your problem write or wire me, and I will come to 
you at once. 

Stick to your own judgment, which I know to be 
against the ‘‘just as good'’ brand. This class of goods is 
the curse of modern business. Leave it alone. 

Yery sincerely, 

Frank Fort. 

Tom did not go to sleep till the small hours of the 
following morning, and he was up and out of the 
house and down at the store before anybody else in 
that house had risen. 

He felt himself to be something of a stranger as 
he approached the front of his place of business. 
“They’ve made a fine window display,” he admitted, 
as he glanced from right to left on entering, and 
when inside, and the lights on, for it was a dull 
morning, he commented again, “they certainly have 
made a good display.” 

He was not long in finding two pieces of heavy, 
white cardboard each about four feet long by two 
and a half wide. “They’ll do,” he remarked, and 
presently, with a marking pot and brush in hand he 
stood back and examined his efforts at lettering. 
The sign read : 


19 


281 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


WE HAVE PUT IN A LINE OF CHEAP HARDWARE 
TO MEET THE DEMAND FOR CHEAP GOODS. 

WE DO NOT RECOMMEND THEM. 

. WE DO NOT GUARANTEE THEM. 

WE DO NOT LIKE TO SELL THEM. 

WE THINK STANDARD HARDWARE IS THE ONLY 
CHEAP HARDWARE. 

WE LIKE TO SELL GOODS WE CAN STAND 
BACK OF. 

BUT IF PRICE IS THE ONLY CONSIDERATION, 
COME IN AND BUY WHAT YOU WANT SO LONG 
AS YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE BUYING. 

CASH RETURNED ON PREVIOUS SALES MADE 
FROM THIS STOCK IF GOODS HAVE PROVED UN- 
SATISFACTORY. 


Tom put one of these placards m each window. 
“I hate to do it, but there it is and I feel better about 
It. I’ll put the same thing In Friday’s Eaglet 
. ‘‘Hello! Beat me to the store, did you?” and 
Tom looked up to see Mr. Lincoln. 

“Yep, I couldn’t rest till I had this thing straight- 
ened out.” 

“Well, your signs are plain enough; guess every- 
body’ll know what you’re driving at.” 

“We want them to.” 

“Yes, but I feel as though we’re making a present 
of the business to Slocum. Just the same. I’d rather 

282 


JUST AS GOOD 


let him have it so long as we can’t stand back of the 
goods.” 

“Here, read this letter from Mr. Fort.” Mr. 
Lincoln read it carefully and handed it back to Tom. 
“He’s right; he can see the situation better because 
he’s outside of it. I’m glad we’ve stopped ; wish we’d 
not commenced. There’ll be a lot of talk.” 

“We’ll have to take punishment, but better now 
than later.” 

Mr. Lincoln knew Steubenville well and was not 
wrong when he prophesied that there would be talk. 
When the mail was being distributed that morning 
Martha Acker was at her post as usual and so was 
Alicia Norton. 

“Ain’t you seen them signs in The Lincoln Hard- 
ware Company’s window, Martha?” 

“Ain’t I seen them? Well, ruther, an’ the minute 
I laid eyes on ’em I hurried round to Slocum & Stil- 
well’s so as to see how it took. I thought at fust 
he’d be glad to hear ’at they was ashamed o’ their 
own goods, but he took on somethin’ turrible when I 
let on what them signs read.” 

“What did he say, Martha?” 

“Mebbe I hadn’t ought to tell, but I reckon I will 
jest this once.” 


283 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


“You can tell me, Martha, knowln’ as I ain’t the 
kind to spread news around permiscuous. Now 
what did he say?” 

“Oh, he called Tom a fool in seven different ways. 
Said he was a fool for spoilin’ a good thing, an’ thet 
they were both in the same boat when it come to 
sellin’ cheap goods, an’ why was he the idiot to tell 
everybody. Slocum was awful cut up, an’ acted thet 
dreadful as I never seen.” 

“But, why, Martha, why should he make such a 
fuss, when it’s their own goods Tom an’ Jethro is 
a-runnin’ down?” 

“It’s plain to me as gazin’ through a ladder.” 

“I can’t seem to see jest why Slocum should take 
on so.” 

“Why, don’t you see, he’s a-sellin’ the same goods 
an’ pretendin’ they’re all the best, an’ now here comes 
Tom an’ Jethro apologizin’ for them, an’ sayin’ they 
ain’t no good, an’ here’s Slocum who’s been sellin’ 
them for months. It don’t make Slocum look like 
no philanthropist, does it?” 

“That’s so, I see how it’s goin’ to work, they’s 
goin’ to be lots o’ trouble for Slocum. Did anybody 
tell Tom or Jethro how Slocum took it?” 

“How could they? I’m the only one that knows.” 

284 


JUST AS GOOD 


“Well, Martha, I’m goln’ over to — ” 

“No, you ain’t, I got the information first, an’ I’m 
goin’ to tell if anybody does.” 

“It ain’t fair, I thought o’ tellin’ it to Jethro first.” 

“I was plannin’ to tell it when I met you here, an’ 
it belongs to me to tell it. Didn’t I think o’ callin’ 
on Slocum the minute I seen them signs in The Lin- 
coln Hardware window?” 

“Oh, I suppose you did! But tell me, anyway, 
how Tom an’ Jethro takes it.” 

“I’ll tell you the very first one. I’m goin’ over 
there right away.” And Martha, true to her word, 
was making a professional call on Tom and Jethro 
inside of two minutes. As Jethro was waiting 
on a customer, her first attentions were paid to 
Tom, and she told him all she had found out, as 
to how Slocum took the news that The Lincoln 
Hardware Company would not stand back of the 
cheap line. 

“That’s so,” commented Tom. “I hadn’t thought 
of that. It will put him in an unpleasant position. 
But I can’t help that, this company now and forever- 
more sells goods for what they are, no more, no less.” 
As he was speaking the telephone rang, and he now 
excused himself to answer the call. To his surprise 
285 


MAKING GOOD IN THE VILLAGE 


it was none other than Slocum himself. “This Mr. 
Stewart?’’ he asked. 

“Yes.” 

“I’ve had a look at those signs in your window.” 

“Yes.” 

“Don’t you think you are making a mistake to de- 
liberately inform people that you have been deceiv- 
ing them?” 

“No, I think the mistake was made in deceiving 
them in the first place, not in telling them now.” 

“You’re ruining yourself, young man. Take the 
advice of an older man who has been in the business 
all his life.” 

“That’s what I’m doing.” 

“What?” 

“I’m taking Mr. Fort’s advice. I’m going to sell 
goods for just what they are.” 

“You’re going head on for the rocks.” 

“Tell me this, Mr. Slocum, why are you so sud- 
denly interested in my business success?” 

“You’re a fool I” came back the answer, and Tom 
heard the receiver hung up. Then he turned again 
to Martha Acker. 

“He don’t rightly like it,” said she. 

“Who?” asked Tom. 


286 


JUST AS GOOD 


“Why, Mr. Slocum, you just been talking to. I 
heard what you said an’ guessed what he said. He 
don’t rightly like it that you’re showin’ him up.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are, when you tell the people your line 
ain’t no good, you tell them his is just as bad, only 
he’s sellin’ it as though it was first-class.” 

“Well, I can’t help it, Martha. Only, you won’t 
tell anybody about this conversation now, will you?” 

“You can trust me, Mr. Stewart. I ain’t that 
kind.” 

In about two minutes more she was in close con- 
sultation with Alicia, and it was to be regretted that 
somehow the news did leak out, that Mr. Slocum 
was very much concerned that The Lincoln Hard- 
ware Company had chosen to tell the public that the 
new cheap line was cheap all the way through. It 
took but a few days for all Steubenville to learn that 
Mr. Slocum felt very much concerned that Tom had 
spoken so plainly about his own cheap goods. This 
had one immediate effect. It made every purchaser 
of that line of goods feel that he had a personal 
grievance against Slocum & Stilwell and, though this 
had not been Tom’s intention, the result of his stand 
in taking the public into his confidence was that, so 
287 


MAKING GOOD IN THE yiLLAGE 


far as this fight with Slocum & Stilwell was con- 
cerned, he had won a complete victory. 

The next issue of the Eagle contained Tom’s an- 
nouncement very much in the same words as on his 
placards in his show windows, but by that time it was 
stale news, for all Steubenville knew about it and 
had passed its judgment in favor of The Lincoln 
Hardware Company and against Slocum & Stilwell. 
There was, however, one direct response to this ad- 
vertisement, and it came in the shape of a telegram, 
which read: 

Good for you, Tom. Now youVe on the straight road 
to real business success. 


Frank Fort. 

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